If we climbed
despite the burning
all the way
over the mountain
what would we know?

The oracle cannot tell me
what is necessary
or what is safe.
The blue is found

by walking. My hands
have been inside. They know
the texture of your surrender
and its retreat.

I wonder what would happen
if we finished what we love.

How luminous
the space between
tall trees and the rising peak
this concrete world
your eyes over water

your eyes want to tell
the truth in more than bits.

Old woman
past, young woman
almost – what if

it is time for the colors to break. What if
there are books in us. What if
we kept still long enough to find out.