Status Updates From She Had Some Horses: Poems

I drive this road again
my children older
and this ache
this trembling ache
haunts me endlessly
like you.

what better life is this
than to stand up singing
with no blade edge
against ourselves
other than voices
out of the fire.

I can't do anything
but talk to the wind,
to the moon,
but cry out goddamn goddamn
to stones
and to other deathless voices
that I hope will carry
us all through.

And we go on, keep giving birth and watch
ourselves die, over and over.
and the ground spinning beneath us
goes on talking.

It's quiet now, but underneath the concrete
is the cooking earth,
and above that, air
which is another ocean, where spirits we can't see
are dancing, joking, getting full
on roasted caribou, and the praying
goes on, extends out.