*
*
When she peed on the rug
though you walked her so many times
in 26-degree air
*
When you were impatient
used mean words
When you felt so sorry
for yourself
When all the asking
for help for food for attention
sucked out all you knew of God
*
Don’t erase
the holy darkness before dawn
under waning starlight
the promise of the day
resting in warm flannels
the hawk’s grace and cry
geese invisible overhead
inked permanently
on the heart
I live a life of mystery
says the golden vixen
sliding through waving grass,
feeding on the small and furry.
Crepuscular creature,
I am a secret heartbeat,
shadow mover, home unknown.
*
Who named me bleeding heart?
I am the echo of the luna moth,
a winged flower with twisted tail.
Don’t link me to that sad sacrifice.
I can almost fly.
*
I stand in the mud and clay,
says the crone,
to which I will return.
The heart aligns with its eternal image.
As above, so below,
and I, in the middle,
heart rent open,
a conduit for grace.
Tangled Magic 