autobiography

© Marianne Paul

i have heard a tree sing

a chorus of leaves as if a million birds

how lucky i have been

i have cradled a finch in the palm of my hand

down-soft and precarious against my skin

how lucky i have been

i have held and been held by fingers match-stick thin

and freshly born, felt my breasts ache full and hard

how lucky I have been

i have paddled alone in the church that is a lake

sang spontaneous praises to an unnamed god 

how lucky i have been

i have wailed in the blackness of a grief’s

summer night, loss as bottomless as the stars and your love

how lucky I have been

give me to the sky and wind mid-week

so you might smile a bit and say, ash wednesday

and i might become the singing tree, the finch, the freshly-born