Brigitte

she will say

if you ask that

the dead who remain

have instructed her

to tell us

this time

although she does

not know

who they are

or what they said

and you will be skeptical

and first dismiss what she describes

as just the script of an old movie

or the images from a silent film

or the story in a new age novel

how she came to the river

with its black currents

moving in their silence

but she did not know

the name for the river or

where the water was flowing

how she stood waiting

for nothing she remembered

alone beneath ancient trees

how the fragrance and the

sensuous shimmering leaves

of the trees helped her touch

the memory of the day long before

when she planted the saplings

how the murmurings of the trees

filled the forest with her story

the instructions of where to climb

what to carry but again

in the fog of all knowing

she could not hold

the secrets that they

told in her hands

and then how she was

transported by clouds to

a white morning

before a stone tower

welcoming her as if

she had returned home

and she for a moment

began to see why

and about her great effort

to ascend the circular stair

in the hollow of the tower

where others of legend

had risen and how

the journey was an eternity

and how she did not know

who she was

as she climbed

to the top pushing

through the trap

door on the ceiling

to the floor of the landing

and how she perched

like a pigeon on the parapet

alone except for

the chorus of the dead

and the wind crying

in the great distance

like a newborn

only then if you

are still listening will she

stare into your eyes

and tell you with

the truth in her tears how

she remained there a long while

surveying in all the directions

the country where she was born