For Jane

If you are not afraid of who will know you
you can be fearless on this earth.
Who are you protecting,
this husk that floats away on a breath?
Spirit wakes in the morning,
puts on its boots and starts walking.
These paths are worn, though not familiar.
Steep cliff of sand above a river,
every inch of land below you have known and tended.
Spirit moves like breeze against water,
blowing toward you, rippling what once was smooth.