Flora

My hands are useless now, clamped to this wood
Would you who love me lend me your hands
To continue my offices of mercy
Making them to be gentle, soothing hands, as were mine?
Would you lend me your feet, to visit the sick, the aged, the lonely, the dying?
Would you lend me your tongue to cheer the downhearted
To comfort the desolate and bereaved
To breathe my peace, where there is discord?
Will you lend me your heart to carry my love to all whom you meet?
Will you lend me all the things you find hard to bear
So that with them I may solace the members of our body more heavily burdened than you are?

I have a hankering for the dusk light
For all things illegible
I want to settle myself where the river falls on hard rocks
Where no one can cross
Where the star-shadowed, star-colored city lies
Just out of reach

I have a hankering for the dusk light
For all things illegible
I want to settle myself where the river falls on hard rocks
Where no one can cross
Where the star-shadowed, star-colored city lies
Just out of reach