A vacuum is not empty.

Stillness is not still.


May we rise again in blueberries

that nourished the bird that nourished


the cat that nourished the coyote.

May the scatter of feathers make a pattern


for navigating the darkness.

Gravity cannot unify the family


before the car hit the guard rail

with after.


May there be some way

to enter, then crawl, then stand


in the son’s empty bedroom

everything just


as he left it.

Generation. Transmission. Integration.


May the hunger that is death that is life feed you.

May what has been taken make way


for what is coming.

May the sun lift the heavy-headed bud.


May the petals give way to the gloss of leaf

to the bare shoulder of winter.


May spring come again.

May the earth hold us rooted and send


the ground up through our feet.

May the women stand together


at the gate, hold hands

and sing.