Bones

Walking out of the courthouse that day, finally free!

The Light in my Bones

 

What is this thing I have not known?

Light is filling up my bones?

 

Walking by the little boy

on the courthouse steps

kicking at pebbles

and grinding his heels into smudges.

 

Choking hard on muggy air,

a woman selling German pretzels

fiddles with her hair

and checks twice on her nails.

 

I stop.

To stare at him.

To stare at her,

and realize:

Light is filling up my bones!

 

My pulse quickens -

begging summer's offerings

as though I'd never known:

When did the sky turn so blue,

even beneath a sheet of haze?

(Today).

 

Since when has paper meant more

than the tree from which it sprang?

(Since now).

 

Who painted the old five and dime

and why hadn't I noticed?

(I wasn't there to see it).

 

The church still stands

and I can see my old window

balanced soft between 2x4's

meant to screen out bugs.

I parked there once,

at the base of the chapel,

where drunks came for meetings

and I swore...

 

I stop,

to stare at it.

Flashes of what came before,

Flashes of what has been.

Flashes of ... plain old more!

 

Running now

My legs carry me.

Where I'm running to, not away,

I am not sure.

 

Dodging past the postman

on the lady's porch

fighting with a sweaty latch

and glancing at his watch.

Breathing deeper now, in harmony

with a little girl who jumps rope

skipping twice over cracks

and wiping her brow.

I do not stop.

I do not stare:

 

The church will still be there.

Light is filling up my bones!

Faster now -

so much to do!

I taste the summer air -

anew!