I built my wetlands
In the silence of breathe
in the hums of letters whispered and whisping
when I alone wake.
In the sunshine
Rising with our hearts in worship
Through the slitted blinds before me
While I listen remotely to others who gather as this from our own windows
To sing and chant and say and read
The same words again today
That become, these sounds,
A friend.
And I thank Adonai for the light of day.
I built my wetlands
In the prescribed timelessness
Of back roads with no arrivals
No wrong turns.
Turning only with the whim of my heart
On the compass of routes and roads
Past green signs of how
many miles to that town I’ve never touched or smelled before.
In the smell
Of salt and swamp and pine
That filled my growing lungs
But once I could score high marks
Only filtered through open windows
And between the front door and the car
Neglected and waiting
For its child to wake up and come home.
I built my wetlands by coming home.
I built my wetlands waking up
Under branches and stars
Under 32 degrees Fahrenheit, double bagged
And filled with the peace of fresh air
And the freedom of my stubbornness
That kept me out there, dusk till dawn.
In the poems that women across the sea of time
Whose words call out to my own
To hold me as I sift through sand
For seeds and soil
I found my wetlands
Singing and dancing
Every day terribly in the mirror
Finding laughter and love
Welling from my own depths.