I will sketch space

around my invisible steps

stave the need to marry

my footsteps to the earth;

I know where I walk

unweighted and deliberate

I have sown forests

have sung each leaf onto

each branch that raised its

spiny hand to me,

and have sunk to my knees

in the forgiving soil

making no imprint and

no sound;

it does not matter -

the rain will remember how

it fell upon me

and the oaks will vibrate

where I sang,

my silent lips lending

urgency to

the wind,

and I will know

where I have been.

I opened my eyes

an offering of release

hands cupped, face lifted

not waiting but

poised to move

while still.

The wind caught

my hem, and

lifting my steps

wound me into this

annulus between known

and unlocked.

Here it is like

looking through water,

now magnified

now murky

pulled by a gravity

shifting without law.

The helical current

turns like a key

and I follow,

my form lax and my

eyes fixed on the door

as it opens.