Sandra Fees

Empty Sky

There never was an empty
sky. Looking back now

we can see it was always
            a hummingbird
      emitting a spectrum

of light, iron for our blood,
calcium for the bones.

We, an explosion
      in time no matter how
far back we go. Elders
            once
bent to dust. Or ovum. The seismic

shifts, the weave of space. Like
all forgotten things. Boundaries 

blurred, prophecies
unbroken.
      
We were children
once

and pressed our backs
to grass, to galaxies.

Let’s start again.

The hours migrate
backward. We, novices
      and nomads. And

the beginning
of the beginning
plays out
            all over again
above us where stars

crinkle in the reflective
            pond where we wish
      immortality swirled

       where we are pulse-
beats, race and arc, we.

________________________________________________________________________________________

Sandra Fees has been published in Nimrod, Crab Creek Review, River Heron Review, Border Crossing, Whale Road Review, Moon City Review and elsewhere. The author of the chapbook, The Temporary Vase of Hands, she lives in southeastern Pennsylvania.