The Day I Read Your Diagnosis

The day I read your diagnosis
My heart began to beat with you inside
Both your hands pulling my flesh apart
To make a window to fly through
To leave the image I might have made
To lean back over your heels at me
To ask me to go with you, floating free
Through the vagina, a harrowing opening
In my heart, through which
You are being born. And I,
Giving birth to myself, leaning forward,
Sail out behind you on a river of tears,
Pushed by the winds of pain,
Out on my own hot blood, and reaching over the prow,
Hook my fingers on your collar,
Lift you from a current of anxiety,
And hold you next to me.
All I feel leaning against this rock wall is a pulsing throb of grief
And my T-shirt damp from crying.
I know the same moon that watched the slaves
Will watch your own vivifying resurrection,
But I nonetheless shall stand with flaming swords,
Hot from scorching blood dripping to my feet,
And say to those who peer with curiosity,
Take off your shoes! This is holy ground.

Copyright © 2011 James Lawer