What I Know

The stone on your windowsill

sings medicine songs while you sleep,

the oak in your yard

encircles your whole house with light,

the river you drive over

carries your shame effortlessly downstream,

the mountain in the distance

prays for you in an ancient tongue,

and the moon outside your window

who’s been patiently waiting your whole life

for you to remember

cradles your dreams against her milky-white breast,

your story in the palm of her hand