Call Me Sky

Call me—Sky. My sky.
Call me—Sky of the silence.
And I, a sapling in the dark forest of the blood,
will uproot myself and all this age-old weakness,
and rising high, high, high,
as high as a warm human eye,
will become sky—your sky.
I will become the sky of a Morning Star.

But do not say I am weak,
do not say I am not strong enough
even to look the grass in the eye,
do not say that of all the stalks of grass
only the most fragile hum inside me.
Keep it hidden and, today, hold back the truth
for an even more today tomorrow of mine.

Call me—Sky. My sky.
Call me—Sky of the silence.