I cannot make a new land of hope
by willing the marrow
out of my bones
to take the shape of
mountain and canyon
I cannot make a new ocean of possibility
by forcing the space
within my lungs
to cut stone into molecules of
water and air
I cannot make a new sky of dreams
by demanding my blood and tears
to become the womb
of night and salt of day
I cannot make a meaningful contribution
to the Family of All Things
by forcing, pushing, demanding the child
before she is born; all seed
all time is beyond
beyond the silly little fact
of imperfect human will
— Kathryn Cornelius