Unfurl this fern, eat this wafer – honeyed
light through the eyegate, clear as day.
I have known it since childhood photographs:
see the soft hands dimpled one on the other,
the ability of the very old or the very young
to sit still as water.
Never like you, I was set apart
(my gentle swept away by loud nothings)
and forgot it was right, very right.
I will reclaim my dove feathers,
lower my winged silence
where You have been waiting years.
Inside the gold ribcage I crawl.