The Dead

Today the dead speak, friends, relatives— 
I am older now, there are so many— 
strangers too, Rumi, Mary Magdalene, 
Jesus, those I have never met but know. 
To hear you must listen with the ears of 
your heart, the way you listened as a child, 
arms wrapped around the slim body of 
the birch, ear pressed to the smooth skin 
to hear the sap whisper I am here, you are 
not alone, the dead too, living inside us, 
whispering Yes, Yes, Yes.