What do I do for a living?
When I am tired of detecting holes in the tapestry of tradition
And making up outrageous ways to patch them invisible
I watch birds
I watch birds that grow
From the palm of my poets’ hands
Tracing with fascination
The patterns of their dizzying flights
Over the tall hedges of centuries
Making their way back
Onto the horizons of now
And when I am not bird watching
I make broken mirrors
Smudged with sticky emotions
I have struggled hard to tame
And have mercifully failed
Mirrors, broken with intention
But not along the lines I had carefully predicted
A crooked way to find my own face
Through lending you my eyes
To see yours
But not without its redeeming moments
Like hoping all the while
That despite the scarcity of light
Despite the impatience with rising after each fall
And despite the intolerance with pain
I might someday help someone to suspect
That falling in love has a million faces
If only we had a million eyes to see
August 11, 2000