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I can see the other side

listen
do you hear
the memory of wind
a trust of almost everything
we know
echoes of any ancient crest
winging o’er the pines
remembrance of a valley
far below

silence
do you feel me
whispers of your heart
a moment of submission
rattles still
as melody
of mountain streams
rivers nearly dry –
now are come
our letting to reveal

story
might we gather
around the sacred page –
to speak aloud
of times
we wandered through
breathless as beginning
leaves of winters past
fragile break –
as grace we fell into

listen
do you hear
the memory of wind

. . .