a hand to hold
a neighbours gate
an act of chance
the work of fates,
an entrance
an offering
we walk slowly
up this path together.
winding. circling.
we find ourselves
where others begin.
the boundary,
the crossing.
keys jingle in our pockets,
teardrops signify a beginning
we bear witness to a doorway,
entering one after the other.
in no particular order,
we weave these webs.
spider, spinning.
links made through braiding ropes
& woven in softly knitted yarn.
others hang by a simple thread.
but nonetheless,
a cord, a fasting.
these wefts forge us like river on bed.
every breath & beat,
swimming in rhythm, merging.
earth to water.
a fire that moves with the wind.
& here we are.
a resting place
in one another’s memory.
a graveyard, a cemetery.
libations lay at devotions gate
a head to cradle,
we pause & wait,
teardrops,
endings.
connection is of saintly things
a well,
a spring
a portal
an offering.