The one that I once shared dreams with
has forgotten why he ever shared dreams with me.
But somehow, I heard from Her today,
the one with the warmth that always spills over in the same place:
the crinkles around her eyes —
forged by way of countless smiles for you, me,
all her babies and lambs, each one.
She asks me, “What is that Samuel Green poem?
The one that says, ‘No one should be lost when someone else knows the way.'”
Then I remember: there are Saints right here,
there is no such thing as Alone,
and there is always a way out from under the rock.
In fact, this world has people with crinkles around their eyes,
and Someone put a lot of honey
and an extra pair of work gloves
inside each of us.