A PacRim Poem:

open the gates, my hometown
open the gates, country
open my sight, and ears, and mind
open myself to this wind.
Climb, we strangers, in together,
alone in a very crowd.
our insides rich
with jingling cries to hold us comfortably low
jingling next to doubt of purpose-
if i lose my feet, is there rili a sky,
a cloud to put my head in?
Above the land ive torn from,
above the clouds that curtain,
is there a sky that doesnt blink
but only stares in blinding light,
that doesnt welcome or reject
but only throws a sharp blue
against our fears, our dreams, our eyes.
Up, we strangers, in together
to face, to fear, to pass
through this unwinking plain,
this indifferent measurement
of what our green lives mean.
will our travels erase horizons
or escort us politely back to land?
wen we, strangers, make our descent,
to draw the curtain
and reflect behind the shade,
will our open eyes hold that sky,
that sky that never blinks?
nov 23, 2005