I do what I can to live.
\nIt is a sacred obligation.
\nBut did I fly once?
\nDid my heart rise from the earth
\nlike a feather and say,
\nI am a net into which earth spills its blood?
\nA dream catcher,
\nlooking through the clearness
\nof every stone, planet, track or dune,
\nand I rose to receive them,
\nto pay them homage.
\nTo expand with the great arms
\nthat received me,
\nand caught the light of constellations
\nin my hair like a bank of snow?<\/p>\n
So what am I to do
\nif my soul has used up all its words?
\nIf the faces in the mirror have gone away,
\nand I weep with remembering?
\nThere are days
\nwhen the days are not large enough
\nto hold all the things
\nthat I put in my sack.
\nAnd yet,
\nlike a child with his box of toys,
\nwhat I pull out
\ndoes not give me what I need,
\nlooking through the window
\nat the sky, and asking,
\nif my life goes on,
\nwhere can it go?<\/p>\n
Except back to the things I have collected,
\nand wish to show,
\nand sit quietly with the companions
\nI found in its hours.
\nWho never left me,
\neven as they\u2019ve gone.
\nNow is the time to knock on the door.
\nNow is the time to listen.
\nNow is the time to learn my name.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I do what I can to live. It is a sacred obligation. But did I fly once? Did my heart rise from the earth like…<\/p>\n