(after Frida Kahlo’s Moses)
The world is too round
today. We can feel it
spin. We need the hand, the rain.
We need a hammer
to set the stars in motion.
Eternal child, floating
in the secret waters of the earth,
forever born, forever dead,
your naked hands embrace
the darkness
in their everlasting tomb
of birth.
Breath, dust, flames of vision
held up to the night
gather like the surge of molecules
that sparks the blazing of the sun.
Light our way now, we
who are lost
in cloud, in desert, in the clang
of swords and armor,
you, who know the fire first hand
and live.