Melancholy rivers
run through this body
of lingering sorrow
and a yearning
for lost stories
forgotten by time —
in another life,
I could live
a thousand lives.
A hundred birds in one,
a hundred letters
of burning passion
that has never died,
a hundred different
psalms that bring me comfort
in the dead of night.
A hundred stories
of triumph against the odds,
a hundred flights of stairs
closer to heaven
than where I am now.