while the wild green is here she seizes the ground
 she scrambles up in the air like she owns the sky
  as if the very atmosphere were her possession
as if she'll never stop embracing this wormy soil
 squeezing mother earth in a sweaty verdant hug
  that's just tight enough to say i love you dear one
   never so rough or careless as to cause any harm
and yet the green is thirsty for her mother's tears
 for the fall and flow of nourishment as she grows
as she runs madly over the hills giggling with joy
 as if all this life and warm sunlight will last forever
as if autumn were a tall tale made up by a trickster
 and winter a scary story told to frighten little sprouts

I don’t call you servants –
I call you friends.

Yes, I needed you.
Yes, I need you.

When I came down from the mountain,
exhausted from saying
all the inexhaustible things,
I needed you – I needed my friends.

When I returned from my solitude
by the sea, and in the barren places,
where I abided in interior community,
I ached for the company of friends.

When I completed my fasting,
I craved more than bread and wine.
I hungered for your laughter and embrace,
my dear ones – my friends.

When I was challenged by those
who didn’t understand my words –
or who understood them all too well –
your presence gave me confidence, friends.

When they took me and lashed me,
and blood and tears fell from my flesh,
even though you weren’t there,
I drew strength from the love of my friends.

And now as I hang here stretched and dying,
as my breath grows ever more ragged,
I weep with those few beloveds who stayed,
and I grieve that I must leave you, my friends