Starting Again
Starting Again
Some wake up before dawn
to the first light
when eyes pierce further
into the world
not yet techni-colored
and see in a few steps
other neighborhoods
and know
now is the time to start
not in utter darkness
even before bat squeaks
or the fertilizing collision
followed by moons of rhythm
now no matter what servitude
and war
have done
growing light leads
not to
but toward a life
where in the clutter
there is stuff to grow
and sing about.
The toe stubbed
on the paved slab
raised by roots
is enough
to start with
not turning around
to be bandaged
into bed
but scabbing fast
after a wash
in dew wet grass
still healing
and stepping with caution
from one wisdom
to find the worms
risen from cracks after rain
still joined.
What bliss two pinched
and eased from the ground
they would never stray from
even when fish hunger
in the nearest creek.
Others bury in words
their beginnings
and walk out
into darkening night
rain puddled,
after deaths.
Still some
wherever the toll takers are
pay the fees and take the chances.
True,
for others it’s only if.
If they will hold out their hands.
Where might we go?
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