Wait for the Green Breeze

Wait for the Green Breeze

(“He told her, ‘Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace and be healed from your illness.’” Mark 5:34)

You cannot carry the crowd upon your shoulders.
You cannot lay down the law and expect everyone to obey.
You cannot walk through walls, you cannot dig to China,
but we can hire the verbs together,
watch the sky untether,
and wait for the green breeze that makes
the rocks hum.

You cannot dictate the future from your comma.
You cannot lay down a straight line to curve gravity back.
You cannot always run, you cannot cook without fire,
but we can rent the day together,
question hymns together,
and wait for the tide to turn that
takes us home.

Are your feet cold today, this February,
has the ice stained the impulses that leapt like fawns?
There is a melancholy that fills the spaces,
there are hard stops and soft memories that
fill our minds with faces that once kissed
our silences. Some have gone too soon,
and it feels we may never stop mourning.

How you fill my heart departed loves, how
your laughs and questions marks sit upon
the opening of the day

And mark it with smiles, tears, and
a longing to replay walks through courtyards
where we manufactured words to fit between
our cobbled dialogue.

We wait for the touch that makes
all whole again.