I fell into an unbidden sleep
in my chair, winter’s late afternoon
light through the north-facing window
dim as underworld glow. I woke
soon, wondering whose life this was,
and saw, in the open palm
on my lap, this world’s aura, its soft
star-water bathing familiar skin.
So I saw who I’d been, whose hand
had conducted comfort and pain
in love’s name. I’d stood
in the hard glare of the midday sun’s
photic rain, and not seen
what I’d done. In this dark
room with no one, I raised that hand
and waved to my children.