In the Back of the Eye

What the heart sees from under its break is

always true. When I had cancer and Grandma

died, that moment erupted, a silent explosion

that sent her away and deeper into me at the

same time. When the sun came up behind

that mountain on the way to Santa Fe, my

soul somehow knew it was safe to creep back

into the world. When I was afraid in every

direction, the only place my heart could chew

was in the meadow of now. It’s as if we carry

a very soft emblem of the fire of life way inside

and we are hardened to keep it from going out.

Then one day a bird we’ve never seen pokes at

the window and we think nothing of it but every-

thing within us knows it’s time. And the hard-

ened places start to crack and the heart stirs

from its waking sleep. And all the softness

we’ve carried since birth is suddenly at the

mercy of wind and rain. Now when I see you

rubbing your hand, I feel all the things you’ve

held. Now when I see the snow cover the trees,

I hear the story of every tree. Now I am forced

to stop on track 19 at Union Station, letting

everyone rush on by, feeling their filaments

of soul flicker.