I.

A prayer for
every antiseptic instrument
that excavates you.
Every needle prick, IV drip.
Every diagnosis misdiagnosed.
Good G-d,
how do you answer a question
     no one knows   how to ask?
     Look up.

II.

I grieve for your rebellious flesh.
Your flesh rebels.
Your flesh revels
even as
     your flesh
     S U N D E R S
     itself
even as
it blossoms
red-rash-fire-flowers
all over
     your flesh
even as
it forgets
it is a single body's flesh
     and fingers   must speak to limbs
     and limbs     must speak to minds
     and all flesh must speak to
         all flesh
     if it is to heal.
Even if your numb fingers
cannot feel my hands,
they are there,
held and holding.

III.

I grieve for your beautiful flesh,
not beautiful because it is
smooth
not beautiful but
     inhabited
by your voice
&  your breath
&  your kinetic
     spirit
and made beautiful
because you are in it.

IV.

You are mockingbird songs in dawnlight mist.
You are       a lightning god in the horizon
your flesh is a lightning rod
and you are ground
down
by it.

V.

This box contains a mantra  for you,
                  a mantra  you need
inhale exhale     to whisper to your
inhale exhale     rising and falling
inhale exhale     chest until Doctor
inhale exhale     puts all his tools
                  away. Please don't
stop breathing not even for a second

VI.

dance
khandroma
dance
in breath if not in body
in mind if not in breath
in spirit if not in mind
in me if not in yourself
my heart is a bigger sky
for every step you dance
upon it.