Thank God Great Spirit Mother Wit Sister Moon
you managed to stay alive again
despite all the wrong workings
of that body (well, and mind)
bold errors in judgment,
those sleepwalking elixirs,
the underhanded means of humans,
self-indulgences like ghost trackers
hunting in daylight or dark, into the
advent of happiness, inside bright hoops of love.
It can be a long howl toward peace.
But you just get up–if needed, one-legged–
shove off sick bed, shake lioness head
toss out a guttural laugh with eyes like horizons
What a mighty fine morning, I woke up again–
what trouble are you up to? Need any help?
And we both know those days are over
so now there are little rescues, holding up the roof,
warming empty hands, not running for cover.
We made it this far, my friend,
and it’s better than we hoped
so there is sure–not today, not ever–no going back
as long as we can get through another door,
seek truth, care –as long as we can answer,
one to the other, on this mad earth, and–
let’s face it–if not.