The Pines
The Pines
When the last satellite blinks out
we’ll be left with only stars again:
the bare sky
and language
our friends
Old stories and recitations
::
Where do we go when we go dark?
We collect ourselves among the trees
groping a little with our feet
along the logging roads
skylighted by broken crowns
to earth again
little bivouac
we dreamed by the lake
::
I was born of the water
into light
Just like you
The pines were born of fire
Some were crucified
in creosote, strung up
for long distance utility lines
::
Even with this all night forever
all is never lost
While hurt patrols
the hollowed veins of our once cities
our memories, our hearts
will engine what can be kept of us
Your hand in mine
a blessing
Tall pines drink the wind,
hold steady in its paws
::
There is another world
and it’s inside this one
Before we became data
each of us a garden
The inch of dirt that keeps us human
Brothers and sisters, are you ready?
Ready to go home?
::
We’ll gather like new-day monks or moths
A fire between us
Each heart-warm friend
we’ll reckon one by one
Each name a bead in the bracelet
Each arrival a thanksgiving
In the face of the lake
stars make replicas of themselves
forgetting our names for them
so we can all begin
tender as children
making a new life in the trees