Where the rivers run
Sooner or later the music in your wounded heart
will work its way through the bones of ongoing hope
where the rivers run and the heat finds you in time
to prevent freezing.
The front door of my eyes open wide
and seeing can be believing.
The painted sky is a bit chipped
but latitude and longitude can still
tell time. Sooner or later the
dance in your wounded head will
find its rhythm where those rivers run
and all is vulnerable with love.