Only If
The dried weeds on the cliff
moored my footing on my
way home, now
I mastered my fate
with onliest if.
I scrape the stubborn
muddy snow from
the sole of my boots
against a boulder.
Around the curve where
behind me is a thinning path,
a chinook wind rushes in gust
strong enough to thaw
a memory.
Once there was this
complacent green field
where the birds sing
intimate tunes,
where I was an angel
brushing the doubts off my hair
but then,
i stood in the shadow
brooding over the fire of yearning
that brought me in this land
of onliest if.
