Consulting the Soul

By Isabella Colalillo Katz

you ask for a quality of grace
consulting the river of ecstacy
autumn eyes blinking
the fog
a lostness

death breathes in many languages
light lingers on a distant tree
its bark opening to evening stars
the air is smitten with halo
my skin is an archetype for mother
love enters
through the turnstile at the edge of the meadow

even fireflies need mercy
I know this with certainty
I invite them to sing for my sadness
they bring coyote songs and dances
my hands
orphaned and grim
touch my eyes of fire

pain holds the heart like a blossom
its lament
a fresh picked apple
we listen to laughter and leaves
their photosynthesis
transforms mother to thread to child
and far away
the mountains hold the trail of my frenzy
drowning in familiar and fear

I linger darkly
under a sky of metal and grace
the open mouth of time
mirrors the face of the pure
the soul is an equation of trust
connecting all channels of will