Continuum

I step on family graves with the wonder of what lies under,

tracing my finger around the curve of names carved in oh so

solid granite and earth that seems to hold everything below,

static and dense in darkness, but standing here is breath and air. 

Later along the river in strange formations,

water music had pounded gray rocks crossed with white veins

into bowls and cups brimming with crushed shells.

Small remnants of what seems to hold everything above

in some calcium offering of continuum, here, there, now, gone. 

Last night there were bones spread across dark earth,

smooth femurs and clavicles illuminating the landscape,

buried white gardens made visible in this one dream
full of radiance from bright stone in black sky.

As I curl up in a half moon with head on elbow 

I feel my oh so temporary self in skin, muscle, bone

beating heart, ancient bloodline pulsing as
soft feathers touch me lightly.