by Samantha DeFlitch
I am infinite,
cloaked in memory.
My eyes have watched nations rise and fall, my ears
heard the owl cry at midnight. Upon the mountains,
calloused feet walked in moonlit splendor.
I have arms that nurse the sick,
lips that comfort the dying,
a body that holds the bridge between worlds.
A thousand thousand tales burst beneath my skin:
I have seen the northern lights dance
across a vast, unending sky,
joined a hundred candles blazing
on a warm summer’s eve.
Snow and ice my hands have battled
while the sun set, clear and rose, against the horizon
and with frozen bones
I toiled on-
and when they thawed, my fingers
held the thurible as incense rose
through light of stained glass.
I have touched soil.
I have smelled fresh bread.
I have known life and death.
I have watched the moon rise in the north.
I have walked in frosty fields at dawn.
The things I could speak into existence!
But for all my knowledge, you only want to know
why you cannot touch my hair.