breathing in

i think
that when i get to Dad's place
i'll get to ask
how the loon got its spots

white on eumelanin-black
dripped across barbs, barbules, barbicels

and
when i get new eyes
i'll be able to tell
what colour "dusk" is

sun hidden six degrees down
scattering prism-rays into a sky-puddle

and
when tears are wiped away
i'll be greeted by
my eldest son or daughter

broken chromosomes made whole
Father's timing understood

and
when earth's labour pains are over
thorns burned, curse lifted
work is gonna feel so good

imagination soaring, creativity forming
strength full, backs straight

and
in those days
(because you can't have Matter without Time,
and both Body and Spirit will find Home there)

and nights
(because there will be no more Night in the City,
but why shouldn't darkness be redeemed, too?)

when Aurora Borealis and martyrs
sing the song of the Lamb,

when all my questions
meet their Answer,

when faith and hope
become love's sight,

then,
like the song says,
i'll be breathing in.

http://www.downhere.com/