is it a swarm of butterflies is it
an animal with fur and claws
that stirs deep inside
and sends its waves
across the day
is it a stone that has rolled
down the mountain
with the memory of primordial fire
within its every cell
and stopped mute and vibrant
under my foot
in mid-day
what is it that calls
with cause and origins forgotten,
where is it –
the river
the mirror
sending me pictures from your land
torn off their stems
what is this, that can find me
in the day’s rush and jumble
what language does it have for me
in my sleep
when I had lost it while awake ?