saints

there is no rest for us whose hearts bleed sea water and soil and sand and rain

we are members of the tribe who keep alive the things that are meant to be kept as fleshy poetry

and we live and dance it through blundering graceless moments that i do hope fascinate the gods

entertain the goddesses and keep the spirits and sprites still hopeful enough to keep pouring

themselves into us.

i remember you always

you who have danced beside me and blundered yourselves graceless under moons and in lakes and

forests in the hours we get to share tribal knowledge.

giving up is never an option