Here You Are
Listen out, wide, the way a river moves.
Listen loud. Listen to the slumber
of your own throat as you wake,
how it waits full of songs.
Listen to the voices who think they know you,
but only enough to turn their spells back on them.
They don’t belong here.
Listen to time passing, steady as salt into oceans.
Oceans eat everything. Even land.
Listen to what trees keep whispering.
Leaves are secrets are oracles are maps for home.
Listening is to ears what eggshells are to open hands.
Hold the quiet. Don’t let it break.
To listen is to join the bigness of everything,
to know the air that warms your body
is the stuff that builds planets, the same listening
that puts the black on ravens, the speed in cheetahs.
It brings you back to what you know. The facts of things.
How they feel when you learn them,
like the earth herself leans down
and pours the knowledge in
as plain as meadow grass,
as steady as mountain rain.
Rebecca Macijeski’s poems have appeared in The Missouri Review, Poet Lore, Barrow Street, Nimrod, The Journal, Sycamore Review, Potomac Review, Puerto del Sol, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, Gargoyle, and many others. She has attended residencies with The Ragdale Foundation, The Kimmel Harding Nelson Center for the Arts, and Art Farm Nebraska. Rebecca is Creative Writing Coordinator and Assistant Professor at Northwestern State University in Natchitoches, Louisiana. Visit her online at www.rebeccamacijeski.com.