New Year Poem by michael hogan

It was not angels exactly
but something on the other side
brought us to this place
from which we can never fully return
never rearrange our souls to accommodate
the North and its rigid geometries.
It is impossible to unlearn the spirals which flow
through bougainvillea and shine in the eucalyptus
which we do not understand exactly even as we speak of them.

We have looked through these eyes so long now
saying gracias gracias to mourning doves and hummingbirds
that even perceiving others might see us as old
and the world has a life of its own
cannot shake our experience of growing younger
and knowing the joy of being free
is even better than what the wind feels
or the stars in their fixed constellations.