It is me, your child--
The one shaken from your hair and falling.
I find myself
An Earth girl, set loose and wandering,
If I am the stone,
Or just the sound they make when dipped together into moving time.
What is this homesickness?
A loftier view has been mine,
When I look in the mirror
(though I know I carry your kiss)
I cannot find the Divine.
Am I a note
In a song I can't conceive?
This painful separation,
Is temporary, I know.
Everything I touch, breathe, or stand upon
Will melt and blow away, and me with it.
Please tell me it's a circle and not a door--
Which, having turned,
Returns me to your hair
Blessed and at peace