when you visit us

for a friend of a friend, who's coming one day, who will learn us his love.

when you visit us, there will be magic, and it may be more than you can stomach. but you don't have to be ready in order to come. we'll give you gifts that get you ready. we'll shower you like you're about to birth a whole new self--young and tiny and full of wonder as you once were, not too long ago.

out back, by the fire, you'll sit, tears tickling down your cheek. we won't say a word, but our silence will not be of shame. it will be of freedom. it will be brotherhood. it will be bearing tears of witness.

when the fire cracks, the last log breaks down, you will take off your shoes and wonder why you waited so long to come undone. up the brick steps you'll walk, into the backyard jungle of overgrown grass. and you will not be afraid. you will not wonder what's beneath your feet. you will not worry that they will get hurt. you will hold your body high, each step a prayer, a leap, leapordly, divine. you will know how much you know the way.

the moon will shine brightly, stars peeking through the clouds--and the glowing rings of light made up of hazy atoms will be your sisters, warm and right. they will know your secrets and they will never speak of them. they will only shine brighter like a game of Marco Polo, when your seeker needs to know if your heart lies close to hers.

love is not only for the lucky. but lucky for you, you've got it all.

inside the shed, glowing bottles await you of every size and shape, candles lit within. their glass, a rainbow of delight, resting atop pillows, fuzzy like white rabbit fur. nobody could explain the way the color breathes--the way an irredecent shimmer exudes in even the darkest of corners.

and by the window there is a desk--an old chestnut desk--and a love letter atop it addressed to you. you--the one who never knew he had magic of his own. you--the one who always wished he could bare a child through his own body. you--the one that in some other life was walked to the top of the mountain for, was cherished for his silent knowing, his heartbreaking smile. you--the one who fathers his daughters like queens and kisses his sad wife like a princess.

heartbreak is the best medicine for learning how to love. we all know now, after that day together round the fire, the truth about giving and taking. and you--your only regret is you didn't know how much you had within to give. your only regret is you thought of yourself too small. you did not see your ancient heart, your timeless tale, your moon and stars and sun.

when you visit us--you will be ready. there will be dancing. and you will not be afraid. you will know what you need to know to cry a witnessed cry, to walk a pilgrim's path, to receive a letter of love, to give, to give, to give, to spin around and fall down laughing, alive--impossibly this alive.