for Janet

Open the door. 

Let the dust blow in

and know me again, here in the curved wrist

of tree, the salt shade of stone.

Nothing is lost that has known this sky, 

that has been this old sea. 

Know me again, here in the raven wing 

of star, the chill breath of snow.

Everything is found that has known this blessing,

that has been this old, old way.

Know me again. Let the dust be a prayer

that knows no end.


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