Your soul
a glass chime
raised up to drink
and drink
of sound,
and hours held with
frail hand –caged
lines of bone.
I almost envy you going.
Why so silent when all the world
longs to be in a more beautiful place?
A place
held in the hands
of this earth.
your
life is slowly coming back from the wave,
from that great sea inside you.
Kathleen Vibbert 2009
