I survived.
I lived.
I grew.

Despite the howling void, the nothing place.

Despite my landing—ripped from home—
in terror made of foreign tongue
of never right
of you were meant to fix this; you have failed.

Eclipsed by my flesh-of-their-flesh sibling
on the wrong end of the favored-child stick.

Despite being odd duck, square peg, black sheep, lame deer.

Despite the risks I took—I should be dead!—I knew how little my life mattered.

Despite, despite.

Despite.

What failed to kill me forms a single thread; this yarn is in the spinning yet.

If you ask why I’m still here I’ll only tell you what I love about this life.

I’ll sing you ocean:
vast in reach, in force, in current

undertow pulls rills of sand between my tickled toes

smell of salt and driftwood rot 

taste of the very earth’s blood dancing clear on my tongue
running the deep’s chill over my molars

surf crash

song of ripple, gull, and puffin

she floats me over beds of mussels, bull kelp, rock crab
sand dollar circus’s shaggy brown spin

through sea lettuce leaves, moon jelly ghosts

tosses me laughing in the summer surf
feeds me sand and humble pie
draws me out to dive through wave after wave after shore-bound wave.

I’ll sing you sound:
melody’s tendrils twine through my dreams
silky spirals sneak into day, sing themselves through me
morning birdsong, leaf-rustle, rooster

midday rush of wings
madrona rife with grackle cackle
evening’s blue heron cronks from the cove
stretches into flight and down the sound.

I’ll sing you earth:
rich dark loam, green pea shoot, purple dahlia ray, red poppy petal
sunflower’s nod toward evening, gold on blue.

I’ll sing you sky:
waxing crescent moon’s cool light on midnight skin
tide rolling gentle stardance in toward shore

a constellation long imploded calls to living bones
—to kin—
across eternity, stars whisper
“I am you and we are them.”

I’ll sing you love:
warm weight purring furry on my reading lap, my sleeping hip, my open book

the voice of a friend, our laughter shared
until we gasp for breath and pound the floor with flapping palms
until we clutch our heaving bellies, catch breath
catch               breath
breathe                            breathe                                   breathe

then catch the other’s twinkling eye, dissolve again guffawing “ouch, my face!”
our grins are stretched from ear to ear
to ear to ear.

sorrow, too, we share:
deep, shaking sobs
or hollow blankness staring out to sea

losses piled up like war dead
all these bones
so very, very many bones

one face a river; one all ears, all heart, all warm regard
receiving, being with
being here

here

here in my very bones, marrow’s spinning cells,
building tiny messengers to pulse through veins and feed, defend, preserve.

Here in my only heart I’ve spun a nest
feather-soft and suckling size

she rests, this weary traveler,
within my pulse
—her pulse—
our home.