in the misty morning

in the misty morning
we pried ourselves loose
unmasked
rinsed our dream faces
transformed

we rolled out the constricted part
in an effort toward balance
one leg at a time
finally engaged core remembered itself
and held us still

meanwhile, my mother waned
language loosened and access blurred
into a vague decision
choosing between soup and stir-fry or
an endless search for PIN codes and insurance
cautious walks across fields of goose poop
to marvel at the pond

then, my dead brother emerged as I sipped my bitter coffee
his soft gaze in the midst of forever
and a longing rose
the fervent wish that conscious and safe were possible
that Quan Yin could actually usher the final sufferer
through a gateway

that awaken would mean something brighter than morning
stronger than ozone
a permanent status update
of alive
of free
of home