Fatiguers of hamstrings, did you feel me strain
while still afoot upon the road? Did you feel
my sinews work like pulleys on my course?
Carriers of water, what is the secret of your
warm depths, and why do you forget to swallow?
Do you remember when I leapt over you?
Throwers of pearls, can you see that swine
are everywhere, and how easy it is to lose sight
of the one true prize?
Wrinklers of bedsheets, can't you feel
that death follows life follows death
and that in between them
is the journey like this open road
that unfolds across the blanket of time?
Fellers of trees, how is it that you ever fail?
The tree falls away, no matter what you do or don't do.
Stand back, make space for the trunk.
Tenders of vines, do you know that the body
is dense and wants only to return to earth? The body
is clay waiting to be spun into a vessel of use.
Lowerers down of coffins,
did you hear me call your names?
Did you hear me give thanks
for the day you dropped me
into the dark earth like a seed;
the day I first fell in love with worms?
Strummers of mandolins,
can you sing me about the Soul
and her melancholy, the constant note
in life's chord? She is filled with no body,
but if you stop to listen,
you will hear her sing.