When the sun sets,
Or at the rising of the dawn,
When I am gone.
Remember my imperfections—
My incurable lateness,
Living As-ifness instead of Isness,
My smallness clashing with greatness.
The healer-sage-artist bent over
Unwieldy words that slanting-say
What is impossible to show.
But you know, anyway…
When you think of me,
Your heart glowing with my name,
I will be remembering you.
Our lighted loop will remain the same.
When the wind ruffles your hair,
Or the leaves flutter against your feet,
And the rain drops tears upon your cheeks,
Let them gift you with my touch until we meet.
Alice W. Lee