Her mind is shooting stars and small birds dreaming,
her body floats over mountains, crawls into beehives,
sound of groaning glaciers, scent of ancient ice.
She dives into purple asters on blue dragonflies,
glare of yellow sun melting on her tongue.
Human beings flee from Syria, from Honduras
from Guatemala, and from El Salvador.
In Iraq, they blow up the Mosque of Jonah.
That whale borne prophet of Nineveh now preaches
forbearance and fierce compassion in the streets of Mosul.
Old forests levelled, disputed cities crumbling, fields
on life support: she rides the bounding tiger of difficulty,
engaged with the workings of medicine and sickness.
Trees are planted on injured fields, crops seeded in small holdings,
errant hearts acknowledge the one that kills —
and even now, free flying bees caress soft petals,
chipmunks leap over violets, and fragrance of birdsong fills the air.
