Like a Harmonica

Like a harmonica playing
from a far off place,
like a storm in warning under
a clear and windless sky,
like the smell of food when
both fridge and pockets are empty,
change arrives and pulls each
limb from its socket, plucks the
head-hairs, until a new appearance
forms and the body lies on its deathbed,
unable to stand. Then like sunshine
on the windowpane or like a blank page
in a room without furniture, a face arises
newly formed, clothes fill the closets
that were never seen before.
The hands throb raw with anticipation.
Then lifted from the lava pouring, lifted
into a warm communion, strength pulses in
the fingertips and in the eyes, all meaning
is rejoined and the heart is freed
to finally bless and fully cry.