And, when the time comes to let it go,
let it go,
My story begins
and continues in the song of crows.
Their call awakens., alerts me
to the sky and light. How they glide
on the desert wind, their iridescent wings
becoming ribs, buoyed
by a breath of belonging.
Despite the exit of old dreams, an identity
fallen away like a stained
and wrinkled mask,
I ‘m here in the hush
of winter and paling sun, a long
expanse of open fields and air, the stray
kindling of weed and whisper. A place
where birds defy boundaries
and bind me with a shadow’s mercy
to each one of them.