strangers

sometimes even strangers

know i am loved,

by the curve of

my shoulder.

i hope

i’m loud and disruptive.

i hope the rivers remember

me for who i was. i hope the

grass remembers the

secrets and promises.

there’s this poem i’ve been trying to write.

(always an angel never a god.)

i am not sure where i am meant to be.

i search for myself in the first sight of autumn dandelions,

and i return home with secrets.

my mother listens to me. tenderness.

oh i hope i irritate. i hope i annoy.

we build empires; palaces and

castles on hills. stories we would tell our children.

oh i built a city of birth and beauty

and i fear love but i am sure it was a city of adoration.

i have built the most beautiful sanctuary,

as if i am some bird building a nest.

building a homely nest in a meaningless vessel how wonderful.