May my eyes be soft on myself,

humorous, dark, and wry. 

May I see myself truly—

hold myself wholly. 

May I be the channel through which the rainwater flows,

the needle’s eye through which the grey silk passes.

Let God rest in me, 

spirit and body

one bridge,

one indivisible celebration.

Forgiveness scraps one thousand eyes 

better buried beneath sodden loam.

Plant them, and in the rainy season, 

they will sprout

a profusion of new leaves, darkly shining.

Swallow me whole, God. 

Love me like you love the ginkgo leaf

on the cement overpass,

ragged and rain-soaked.

In the anemic sideways drizzle, 

it gleams, pale as butterscotch

and gold as a trombone.