Reincarnate

I walked across the ocean from Liberty’s island,
on top of the water.

The dolphins swam beside me, circling.

My head sleeping

while my body moved.

Sea foam tickled my bare feet.

Purple toenails like grapes, floating
above the deep blue.

I walked not knowing

only going, going.

Until I felt the pebbles of Ireland.

A fisherman dropped his catch, gasping.

He lifted his finger to point, mouth wide in wonder.

I had wings, wings of a gull.  It did not seem odd.
It was not strange to me.
It gave me courage
to 

ask him for food. 

His wife made a fine stew with fish and carrots and

buttered potatoes. Her weathered hands working
like a cello virtuoso.

I told them of the dolphins, and they drank plenty whisky,

singing songs that made my bones remember
centuries past,

a life long ago, whispered in lyrics.

In a cottage of stone we ate by a crackling fire and
I felt the dead kings. The dead kings listened.

I fell asleep on a tattered rug. My mind traveled 

high in the clouds over the ancient circles and ruins of

stone and green hills, sighing.

Time had no beginning and no end

I was not an angel on a tomb,

curly moss, covered.

I was molecules, 
flesh and bone,
alive and

home, a promise kept,
a dream,
living.