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