a poem

I am longing for the silence of the hills
where birds, wind and the short bark of pikas
fill the air. Where you can feel
the rocks breathing

and settling. I long for this kind of silence
to be my soundtrack, to be what I hear when I
walk through town, look at the pile of dirty
dishes, consider my list of things

to do. But, I am whispered conversation after
you’re mostly asleep. I am hovering above
the words – unwilling to commit. I am

the girl walking in the shadows of early morning
the woman in the noon sun
the ancient one walking among moonbeams
and I am the one on one can see.

My real name is unspeakable
beyond, behind, beneath –
you will know me when you breathe
ten clear breaths and listen.


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