All My Relations

I thought to myself...
that's how it all moves.

We are not unconnected
lonely ghosts
housed in eyes and ears.
Just waiting to leave…

The rock who powders
and becomes a part of our bones
'til we crumble
and sweep back to dust;

The rain that rushes
crimson through our legs
when we run,
and falls back to the earth
when we cry;

the air we breathe in
and then back out
into the mouths
of verdant trees;

or the grasses and deer
who lend us their lives
'til we pass it on
to the bears.
and then the beetles.

We connect one way
and then another
held by a thread
never separated
never lost

trying this in 1st person (1jan09):

I am not a ghost.

I am not eyes and ears
in a box, waiting
for gods to cut the tape.

I am the odd
stones collected
and tumbling.

I am a moment
whispering into the mouths
of waiting trees.

I am the grasses
and I am the deer
borrowing grace.

Passing on to
hungry beasts
and shiny beetles.