I Am Thirsty Now

A woman is lying on the ground.
She can’t get up.
I think she will pull me down
into the earth.
I run,
I run from the earth.

My mother is lying on the ground.
She is sleep.
She is darkness.
She is tears.
She sucks the world into her belly
and it never comes out.
I run,
I run from my mother.

The ancestors are sitting in the corner
drinking wine.
They sing me songs of grief and joy
in an ancient language
my skin understands.
I do not want to go towards the earth.
The earth is sprinkled with their blood.
I run,
I run from their song.

Their arms are heavy and slow.
I think they want to put me in a box
and bury me beside them.
I become fast and light.
I run. I run. I grow wings. I fly.

Her arms were heavy and slow.
But they were arms that held,
that pinned me to one place
long enough to be loved

and the earth was a hill
we rolled down and down
and laughed at the tumble of our senses
and the earth
was my grandmother’s garden
where I picked raspberries
for the raspberry pie.

I am tired now.
Look at me:
I can’t even keep a single plant alive.
I walk on rubber,
watch landscapes on TV.
How long it’s been since I went outside.

I am thirsty now.
I cry when I see the men
dancing in a circle.
These are my people.
I long for them,
for the line of meaning
of bread
of hands
stretching back through time.

I am lying on the ground.
I am thirsty now
for a drink of that wine.

Gypsy Wine

Life can be hard. 

We know that more than most.

We live with this

like we live with everything –

dancing.

You are waiting 

for your troubles to be over

before you dance,

play music and sing.

You have forgotten

the dance is inside.

It's not about how 

you move your feet.

But don't worry.

You can stop 

and find what you need 

right here by the road. 

Even this road

that seems like the wrong one.

There is a bottle of wine

in your hand. It says:

I am the one they drink 

at all the celebrations.

I get up and dance 

no matter what. I am 

that crazy love that dances 

on the tables, I am 

those drunken Cossacks 

at the bar, that spinning 

wild beauty. I am

joy and sorrow 

and a heart bursting

and the violin playing so fast

I have forgotten 

my own name. I am 

what you have been missing. 

I am your own wild heart.

Let's open the bottle.

Let's drink the one we were saving

for the special occasion.

There is no tomorrow.

There is only now.

But we aren't going to give it away.

When you retrieve something 

you have forgotten,

when you purchase something 

you were careless enough to lose,

it is expensive.

There is a price for being alive,

for creating a spark 

in the vast darkness.