Singing Down

I’m coming. Down out of the clouds
into the rain. I hope I’m coming straight
and clear. I hope I’m falling on holy ground,
That the people catching me are sure and loving.

I hope the people bringing me to earth
have said their evening prayers and their morning prayers,
because where I’m coming from is made of prayers and leaves.
Silk spun from mulberry is fine but where I’m coming from is finer still.

You know those shape singers with notes so bright
they drop, note by note, into your body?
That’s how I’m singing down into a woman
dressed in gauzy skirts next to a man whistling

to hold up. I’m the one calling down the lullabies.
I’m yours. I am your DNA gone wild with love,
I am the split second the angels take to connect us
to God, my spine the ladder up and back.

My feet haven’t yet touched down
so learn the old songs for me
because I’ll come out dazed and start forgetting.
My eyes will gaze at you and I’ll lose

My angel sense. Sing me to ease.

With an anthem from my dazzling alma mater.