thanks for the birthday present

you have given me myself
heavy stone of life
looking out and in looking
fragile, hard and self-encompassing
you beautiful song,
you angel of the present. how
do you know the child
inside me but love the man?
how has you heart clocked
the moments of both our lives
with its unsteady beats?

the house is abuzz
and you are a thousand miles away
this birthday your knowledge feels
a thousand ages old, like the hum of wings
or a spark of light. i have held myself
open a long time to the elements--
for growth, i say, for love,
for unknowing, but a bark has grown,
a course skin covers even the me
below the organizer, the poet,
the lover, but you
have surprised me.
a touch not gentle, not harsh,
but knowing, you knew i would open
even deeper.
i am a terrible storm at 26, blindfolded
in a field of swords, i am looking
out at mountains, i am bringing my hands
from behind my back.

the night calls to me
as i step out in a thin shirt.
my body sparkles with muscle
like concrete over tree roots.

this thing that is me is awake.
i hold a heavy crystal out to the moon.
my life has run beneath the earth
and has known this sky and the lake waters--
it is an offering.
your eyes are closed in the heat,
sweat on your lip--
you have been cruel, but
out of life. you have been scared,
but out of love.  you swallow me
bit by bit like the ocean.
but what you give--
oh what you give.