This is how you will change the world–
water your plant in the morning
though it hasn’t rained in your body
since last November– your hands burn
themselves into seeds. Take care of the dirt.
Call your heart the greatest lover since June.
Open doors of a monastery. Let anyone
in. Changing is simple. Speak to the world–
a baby does not know herself
as a being. Carry sticks. Each fall,
tell the heart it will be different
this time. Winter and our bones will still
be bones. But loved. Light-surrounded.
Darkness cloaks so we can see her
spring across the field, though we know
she’s dying, we hope for what is good.
A burial brings water to the plant–
twisting baby underneath an oak.