sleep and birds

these eyes, a hawk,
penetrant , beautiful

cruel golden clearness

dying they open

a gate of beauty,

invitation and question

the sheer intensity

of this moment

haunting my nights

for months and months

my dreams which i

rarely met, broken at

night, each night, 

until the weight lifted

and release entered

in a month of spring

now another place

in my nights, a soul

i miss but cannot

be near, as if i lost

my own. waking dreams,

never gliding across

the hills as the sun does,

stopping there i wake

to get up and see

i cannot sleep. there is

a hole beyond the

horizon, and it is inside

i don't go there,

i cannot, limping

i return to survive, awake

i am my question

and so you are ,

as you have been

i don't know question

nor answer, i see fear

and cannot bed my head

on this restless sea

as birds can do:

they sleep.

do birds know songs

like love-or are they-

maybe-just this, like roses?