Papa Osmubal

The moon is a wide-eyed owl,
eavesdropping at our every word,
gazing at us while we walk naked
reliving our days in the womb
where the world is all water, wind and fire.
Our shadows are amphibians
thriving among sands, pebbles, and waves.
The night is warm like blood and breath.
Our silence reverberates in the wind.
We are a testament to Eden’s total mystery:
am I broken from your ribs
or are you broken from mine?
I know of no science nor theology
to tell why our whispers have wings and songs.
This poem first appeared in Issue 4 (Aug. 2008) of Cha