Why does the sky rounding the mountains make itself hidden?

Out here on these waters, cold air circling

Light comes to us in blasts

Everything turns to breath,

My childhood knew nothing of the power of women

I was blinded by images

Now I resuscitate stories, planting flowers

Watering weeds

Infinity weighs heavy on the body

As do knotted timezones and histories yearnings

Through voices, distant and familiar, my hands get to work at weaving, shells, nettle, intestines

To suggest a movement that reoccurs

Migrations that leak categories

I give into knot-knowing

I give into you and I

I am learning to speak my mothers-tongue

See a sculpture as it is, for what is

What a surprise! Birds mingling on a falling horizon

A mirror casting back at you

When eyes are lifted, rare and giving

Everything changes as soon as it seen

Materials, light, bodies and gazes, combine into fields

the air is agitated

And differences emerge from within