Soapbox

Visitation

They hide in my dreams now,
waiting to take me to that place
where we can all be young and beautiful
and old and wise, at the same time-
 where fish swim through the air
like it was water
and rope grows in kitchen gardens
and little girls with bare feet
dance under the shepherding moon.

They no longer inhabit the visible landscape of my life
but my heart has eyes
and it sees them yet,
in the cracks and crevasses of memory,
in that place where everything is still possible
and nothing cannot still be undone.

When I ask them to come and play
they never do
but sometimes, when I forget to look
they emerge
wearing that brilliance of countenance
that only love can bestow.

Then they reach out
in an act of grace
and touch my hand
and the universe bends in upon itself
and I am transformed.