westling

The sun was high when you were called
to your final work;
the flame spiral reaching the center of its journey and
- releasing -

Tonight,
when the Sonoran coyotes gather in the liminal
light of dusk, they will sing the names of the dead
with their eyes full of stars and their mouths full of blooms.

This time,
you will be among them - as something new.
As name, as spirit, as coyote yourself
flowing into sacred song.

As for we who remain - our hearts,
heavy with the grief that is unhomed Love,
will find our upturned eyes dried
by the quiet warmth of desert winds
that traveled,
impossibly far,
through the dreamlands to reach us.