What I need is not more time or the old time
but a better time, less seconds that push
everything down into valleys on the map
of a scarred and obfuscating world.
I need a time beyond itself with a harmony that
still pulses inside staccato sighs, and sky breaks
on my shoulders with cascading jangles of blue.
I need a right embrace, not a thousand,
one making a highway to the moon
where all radiance has flown
and stars chime all over here, there.
I need the energy inside the transparent core,
not needless pain of millions hunkered down and
making me itch all night, making me weep
as if there is no end to it and no beginning.
I need to pay attention. To be braver in this middle time.
What is needed has been long awaited.
There are dangerous rivers running to sea;
we seek the common, mighty albatross’ arrival.
Watch it glide for ten thousand miles,
dive into iridescent depths for sustenance,
then show us ways through the gloaming
before foaming waves of rancor take
us farther from wherever we want to go.
Seabirds, carry us high on wide wings;
show us the world you know and we so desire.
I need this quicksand of lies reversed,
and a rain of wisdom to saturate the land.
I need to waken to a chorus of humans
calling out, resonant as heavenly bells,
and all the clenched fingers of hands to be
released, and more words of mouths and minds
to be as manna right now to help save us,
language and meaning like fragrant flames
guiding us toward a slow
breaking open of dawn,
our spirits once more
rowing, rowing, rowing toward the light.