a poem that spoke our names by blackbird

you say,
"do not touch me,
i am flawed."
but does that mean
that no one
should be touched?
for we all
seem to be
so inherently
conflicted
by the same
disease.

as if
i would really
crush you
were you to
come to me.
as if
the transparency
of knowing
was not to know.
at least
down to a deeper
vibration
where the gnosis
counts.

you say,
"i will come
& get you."
as if
you would
take me into
your pavement
where it's warm.
& i would raise
these wings
for you to gather
there beneath.

then you say,
"i don't know
what to say,"
which is the truth.
& i find
no falsehood
in this thought.
if i were to say
that i could fall
into you,
you would merely reply,
"take care of yourself."

if you were standing
on a map
of where you are,
you would
look northward
first
& perhaps briefly
towards the east.
then you would look
back up again.

& i wonder
if you can trust yourself
enough
to recognize
your own detours.
or if,
along the way
they've been replaced
with guideposts
that lead you
towards your doom.

i don't wish
to change you.
instead,
let me reinvent
everything
that you know
starting with
your first breath
which was a poem
that spoke our names
into the airy
yeasts of night
that rose to greet us.

i want
to make games
of the sky
& of the seasons
& the stars
& the music
& the moon.
everything
that is turning
& just barely turning
is a reminder
to never let
the past
prevent us
from our fates.

i can not sleep,
you see,
for i wish
to know *heaven
from the inside
while i'm still alive.