Could you take all these tears away,
take them to the sea and drown them,
stop their mouths with sunshine and improbable gifts?
I dreamt that death came by the light of the moon,
and the forest sang in the tongue of running water
the words that turned her away.
Sometimes there is truth in dreams
if we want to find it.
If we want, we can take all the bitterness
that flourishes in the pure blue of day
and lay gentle shadows on the place.
Let the vixen lick the raw wounds
as she does her cubs,
watch the moon rise,
and listen to her humming,