Origami Birds

I release my pretty doves 
and they ascend like sparks 
to disappear. And look 
how restless I am, 

rather like a child, 
thinking how 
small I feel. 
But small is fine. 

I also have a mountain 
where I can go 
to be alone. 
And when I come down, 

all beautiful and old, 
having seen everything, 
having talked to God, I will say
to the first person I meet: 

Here, take this bird I made. 
My left hand has no idea; 
my right hand is totally 
blind, feeling its way.