This sound of children singing the sun up
will shape every last Himalayan snowflake
echo off the mountains made in their own image
reflect back their voice in future ages
where their philosophy folds into wrinkles of face
You are a temple of mud and soul
just like us an adobe of possibilities
a hollow of love, language and laughter
your body contains at least a liter of sunlight
and stardust radiating from every smile
If I spell my name in bruised melanin
and ink across this mud and breath
made flesh melt down these gold fillings
into an alphabet of love letters
would you recognize your reflection in me
The network of caverns inside my heart
has enough rooms for in-laws and aging parents.
Food by the foot, as we trek between
who we were, and who we are. Giving us
enough time together to turn freckles into folds
From the collection Prayer Flag Poems. Posted by kind permission of the poet.
Image by darpan/Unsplash.
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