The Sound of Om

Come to the truth
of the mirror again this morning.

Look me in the eye
while your trembling hands
trace the edges
of black against white
on the map of my skin
and I will tell you my story
of so much suffering.

Joy stands alone in the reflection
and will not be lost in the sound
of a clicking clock today.

I will only be convinced
by the shape of your heart
to leave all measurement
to God and anyone else
who would like to judge
my thoughts of loving
the warmth of your fingerprints
above the letters of "yes"
on my lips.

Wrap your arms around all the losses
I will never recover
and I will sink to my knees
and touch your feet with wet tears
and the softness of my hair
that I pledge
to give back to the vanity
of the earth.

I will forgive myself
for everything
if only you will promise
to say my name
in meditation

and when I wrap
strong legs around the universe
and moan quietly under my breath
to the sound of Om.