Keep your heart good and forgive me,
I did not know where I was.
Sometimes there’s just no cliff
or landmark of danger.
Sometimes you bow before it
like a moth
blinking into camp fire.
Mother dragged me back
by the nape,
then I understood
the closest way to touch
at the pilgrimage into shadow,
in retrospect, is to catch
a flake of ash between your palms,
lower your mouth to it and whisper,
I saw your light from far away. I’m so sorry you never knew that you were burning.
