These hands are not my hands,
How could they be
Baby blue, holding you
Swaddled, unmoved—
The wind was yours to claim,
I saw it, this past
Flowing reality of moments undone,
Webbing through existence see
You run, you sing
Let the ground give
Let the earth quake
And all rejoice, your howl
Resonant rebound through vibrant fields
Life, how I saw thee fly—
Impossible to reconcile
This motionless reality
To the beauty of my memory:
Where do you sleep?