You Are Worth the World to All the Words That Move In You

If you can parse
These lines, they wish
To bring you balm,
A gift with pith,

The gists of which
Are your own words,
The ones you know,
All these small birds

That sing at dawn,
Back of closed eyes,
In whole notes, hymns,
Rounds. You’re our sky,

Our dome, our vault,
Our home. We mean,
You mean the world
For what we mean.

Apse

No space can be safe for all,
But there are small halls of words
That will hold you in their palms

And not ask you to be brave—
Oh, it’s dark and bare in here,
But this was shaped to hold you,

To fit you, your thoughts set snug
In an apse like a shield arced
Of stone and steel. You can stay.

You don’t need to be brave here.
You don’t need to know it all.
You don’t need gods on your side,

We are not here to tell you
Who you should be, what to do.
This is a pause, carved for you.