Step Out of Your Own Way
So easy to forget how to walk through
your thoughts, to let the weather in your head
erase the weather threading itself, right now,
through the trap lines of the wind, the tunnels
of quiet between the rushing grasslands.
So simple to stop seeing what time
wants to show you.
On the edge of the train’s calling, a whistle
half lost in the merciful sweetness of the wind,
you can hear the stories of sky as large
as your heart, or what your heart can learn
once you start walking this blonde-gray day,
your being strong and fragile enough to listen,
your memory a thick bank so permeable that each
white song of lightning pierces you awake.
