I want to tell you 

how spring feels

in Alaska, next 

to the sea,

with aspen & cedar

with eagles & gulls. 

 

I want to tell you 

how spring feels

here, beside 

the river, with spruce 

& pine, with robins

& crows. I want 

 

to tell you how 

this sky stretches 

between mountains,

how it blues. 

 

Life teaches grief here. 

May snow takes the lilacs. 

 

I want you to know how my body 

cries. I want to tell you how 

your touch lifts me out 

of myself. I want to tell you how 

words catch in my throat

how I choke 

on them. 

 

I want to tell you 

what I want to hear, 

how my ears long for it, 

how I listen. 

 

You tell me you don’t understand. 

I want to tell you how to understand. 

 

I want to tell you how I feel when you hold me, how it’s homesafe. 

I want to tell you who I am, how I became. I want to tell you what I see 

when I look at you, that you do not see 

when you look at yourself. I want you to know 

how it feels 

 

to love you. I want to tell you what it’s like to be old, how it feels to fall, how the bed holds me down in the morning. 

 

I want to tell you the colors of sky at sunset, the gold, the purple, the green. 

I want to tell you the smell of horses, of hay, of barns. The sounds 

of grasses swaying in wind. 

~sb  may 02019