When Crossing Poem by James McLain

If passion from red dust is grace.
and when,
where I fell, none came to call.

How deep in the warm summer your snow
may it thus,
by your hand bring you comfort.

Help they whom now rest in the light.
The scent of dawn as nights quits
leaves blowing wind as it covers me.

And if in thought, be they running deep
crossing over on boats mighty rivers
yellow styx turning too dance away from it.

Thine hand reaching out does up too each.
from whence and i saw,
coming away spiraling big the bang
swiming up through this guf of his,
i am, again past the rift,
dark turns to light that void.

Follow the burning each one new sun.

Come may it guide my true form,
the cord made of silver yonder back
each bitter tear
there may they hide me in the open,
wherefore some without
from the shadow of whom held doubt
whence it beats when you hold me
and resting I wait, 'when you turn
face to face singing a song speaking truth.