I shook hands with an aspen once!
How can it be so quiet,
When there is a storm raging inside?
When every cell in the body
Is crying to tell the tale of its mute captivity
But there is not a scream
Loud enough to carry the pain.
I shook hands with an aspen once
How can raindrops not wash away my despair?
Are the “inner” and the “outer” so completely disconnected?
Do you not sometimes see the sky bending over patiently
To heal a broken bone?
Does the air we breathe not connect my loneliness to yours?
I would say the mountains do echo our fury – from time to time
I shook hands with an aspen once.
June 5, 2000