I have met ones
Or other wise two
Who see the world
As though through
My other pair of eyes
And here dwells
The gaze-lifting might
Of moving mountains
The chasms deep blue
Of the teeming ocean
And maybe I should not
Hope to meet more
As it is the beyond-hope
That humbles us
To the edge of Now
That fierce crumbling
Patience with truth.

These forms may have
Disappeared from view
But they have
Taken a seat
Behind my lids
Lit a flame
In my heart
And every day
Another word
Makes flesh of
Their presence
Giving me courage
To keep saying this
Be unabashed
In my native wonder
Keep crafting a path
With space to each side…

Where grief joins
Hands with joy
Light whispers its
Secrets to darkness
Freedom arches brushing
Beauteous wings over
The faces of fear
Kindness offers up
Its heart to power
And love, well love!
That is what roots
The foot again
Again and again
For the other to reach
And what directs
What is lost in us
To become found.

* Poem inspired by my recent visit to ancient Olympia and Delfi, and some lines by Rilke.

‘I want to know my own will
and to move with it.
And I want, in the hushed moments
when the nameless draws near,
to be among the wise ones —
or alone.’