are you amy?

it's a weekend of poetry
of course, you come too--
what did you do, say,
tell me? when you thought
this might be the last
moment with your granddaughter?
you knew julie, too--
why no poem for her?

are you amy? born just
as you were buried?
i
stay in the assignment:
an image:

i remember the blue dress
on the doll--the strange
shaped teeth, the eyes
that flapped open and closed
the ringlets of the reddish
hair--the strange covering
of things--the white cloth
body--not white--
aged cloth--even then
as creme like--
yellowed--as this
page of yours i write on.

who's dream are you?

oh, my expanding soul
unrolling at the edges
to spread, again,
out.
i am lost in my need
desperate and deep
calm and assured
for this love
showing
powerfully
up
in my rich, wide life

i have waited
without waiting
i have walked
each solitary step
of my own journey
to arrive here
with you
in this place
of new beginnings
to begin, again,
the walk i have made
alone
this time, together
and i long to come to
the end of the journey
i have known alone
and go on
up
to the precipice
of highest heights
where i have only dreamed
of going
one step
at a time
but of course
one can't get to the
place of flying
by walking
no matter how many
share the journey
to get where i long to
one must use wings
and not words
to float on currents
of air
to get to the place
of dreams
come
true
and you
must know this
fellow seeker
and so
for as long as it
feels good
we'll share the walk
and when we are called
each to our individual
flights
it is inevitable
we fly
off
alone

with the nesting dolls of hearts
each
inside the others
in the eternal soul
of souls
whose dream
we live
to bring
true