She Is Here

Bring milk by the moonrise

Bring songs of the dead No host before her body

No hood for the head

Through the archives of mourning

Through old houses of fear

A Bittersweet vine growing

We know

She is here

Let the sun rise

 in the morning and any witness bring

Let all the blooming cosmos teach us to sing

The moon a high altar The window a mirror

Now all revelation will know,

She is here.