about the hardship of life
about the longing of twofold
and bits and pieces
unfolding
in lightning bolts and rain

I could tell you about rain
about the things left on the side
of a road - in the corners
leftovers robbed of their beauty
and sleep

and I could tell you the names
of dreams
of longings
and desires

I could tell you stories
that would make your heart pound
like an iron hammer
in the midst of a steam train

and I could tell you about
doors and iron bars crumbling
on the inside of churches
built by man

I could tell your stories
about carpenters
masons and diggers
about scared rich people
and humble beggars

I could tell you stories
about love and children
and the making of a child
through lives tempest
and churning mold

about streets and sweeping
and mornings and leaping
out into the autumn air
filled with song and birds

I could tell you about birds
about soaring eagles
and singing nightingales
doves and crows
bringing their messages home

for us to share in silence
and recognition
of their spirit and heart

I could tell you about heart
about wows made solemnly
through the steps of a lifetime
and the movement
that leaves its memory
in the universe

I could tell you about the stars
the moon and the sun
and the fire that burns inside
each living being

I could tell you about
the sadness that keeps you bereft
from humanity
about fears and pain
and the struggle
to rise from the ground again

about the hands and feet
lungs and bone
about breathing
through shortcomings
and despair

I could tell you about faith
about believes and hope
of forgiveness

of battles fought
and dances made
on wooden floors
of ships and seas
and winds
sailing over the vast deeps

I could tell you stories
about forest fires
about deer’s and horses
in the winter

about ice and earth
in springtime

about the summer’s
heat and sweat
about thirst
and wells filled with water

about scorched hands
akin for release from pain

of walks through deserts
of lost paths
and the making of hearth
and home

I could tell you about
trees and logs
and sap

about rivers
through bodies
meant to cherish each breath
together

I could tell you stories
about gentleness
of the little things

like the sound of wet feet
against marble floors
the sound of a Taiko drum
and the inrush of air
in empty space

I could tell you about people
I’ve met and seen
of things I’ve heard and been told
given trust and intimacy

I could tell you stories
about cherished moments
left in branded memory
but never given an explanation
or release

I could tell you stories
that would make you shake
your bellies cramped with laughter
gasping for breath
with tears in your eyes

I could tell you stories
that would make you weep
again