In My Arms

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?