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I will not shatter in your work-worn,
attentive hands. I am not glass, not
hard crystal. Water and warm earth,
I’m clay you work. And you walked
barefoot over rocky ground to be here.
Let me wash your feet. The scars
are not signs of sin; sin is a lack of
path prints - we discover longing
to learn belonging. A hawk glides
through a heated sky, nature’s kiln.
We inhabit the planet together. Each
acquaintance a reunion. Each touch
changes shape. Mystery will not kill
you. Mastery will not kill you. Failure
will not kill you. Love will destroy
what doesn’t work awake. Yearn,
press harder between your thumb
and forefinger, thin the vessel so
you can hear water inside. Feel what
you’ve heard since the day you were born.
brings to my body
and i kiss to make you smile.
- Michael Graber
- To read this book: The Last Real Medicine Show
