Bring Her to Me

peter-loewy-gustav-klimt-2009

bring her
bring her
bring her to me
when the full moon’s setting
and the morning breaks
the night in two

when the music of missing
pulses in palms pining
to place themselves

when shadows play on brick
and the dead don’t wake
for breakfast

when a woman’s gait
calls no unwanted attention

when birds announce the news
of the new day

when seasons change
under our feet
and our feet do the praying
and our prayers whisper, please

bring her
bring her
bring her to me
when the children are sleeping
and strangers bother to say
good morning

when the lumps in the batter
have been stirred smooth

when the church bells are ringing
and the t has been crossed
and the i has been dotted
and the mail is sorted
and the laundry is folded

when the ice has all melted
and the oceans have risen

when the panic’s abated
and my hunger is sated

when the nests are protected
from predators
and the runway blazes
in the early heat
of painted lines and weary faces

bring her
on a winged creature
of myth or man’s making

bring her
on the redemption song
of slavery ships
and forced conversions
of children smuggled to safety
in toolboxes and tiny coffins
of hope in motion and motion
unstoppable

bring her
reciting every name that’s forgotten

bring her
in honor of all the Sunday mornings
all the battered moorings
all the false positives
and all the grieving mothers

bring her to belonging
to the home where I am waiting
waiting
waiting
waiting for you to bring her
bring her
bring her home to me

One thought on “Bring Her to Me

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