
To the whole of my love
culminating these weeks of travel,
I have arrived
in highs as high as helium balloons
and grief that flooded the whole of my blood.
To those “imperative” life things
that seemed to blow off
the sides of my vehicle like sand—
the treasured books I left behind,
your voice promising to call.
To the road angels whose quiet mountainous majesty
rose and fell with the deepest sky
warmth and hands and no agenda—
One day at a time, clementine…
breathing me here
from mourning
to morning.
~~ Julia Daye