I Yearn For Ink

I yearn for ink.
Light flows through sculptures of air, I whirl.
With strong bold strokes of black against white
(Like gazelles leaping
Like reeds on the dark waters of the Nile when it floods
And the world it seems will drown in mud)
For one thousand and one nights
My neck on the sultan’s scimitar
Against the hordes turning my gardens to deserts
And choking my rivers with blood
I wash them down with ink
I remember him to live.
He who walked among the lilies and turtle doves
Whose cheeks burnt in the sun
When he told us the tale of the good shepherd
That we had heard many years before him
But did not know,
He who died,
And on the third day, rose
We remember him
As fresh as though our bridal night
Was only yesterday.
As though only yesterday, he found a slave girl,
Raised her eyes to him,
And set her free
To walk free and cast nets for men
In the ink dark sea of Galilee.

Since that moment he saw me
All the colors of my palette
All the bold strokes of my words
Have taken wings

Only to return to his lips
To draw his face
To remember him in every breath I draw
And every breath that returns me
To the winds
To him.

I have become a kite
In his hands.


May 11, 2008.

Scio Amo