There is a view of the world
where the chimneys all point down
and the birds rest with their feet on rooftops
so their heads are ready to dive
into the deep blue of the sky below them…
and in this place I feel the tremble,
real life coursing through my open heart
filling muscles with blood they’ve worked hard to restrain.
This place of quavering,
of learning to love wrinkles,
of wobbling into a new kind of strength
where nothing feels comfortable
and everything is held in love;
how quickly I want to move to the happy ending,
how much courage to stay raw…