When I decide I love you just as you’ve
left town, when you muster the courage
to forgive your father and go to say so
only to find he’s had a stroke, and you
never know what he hears as I never
know where you are, when I hold my
face to the wind and my questions dis-
appear—it’s the music of near misses that
lets me know that my heart is just a reed.
In the realm of things so large and silent
we sometimes think we’re all there is, no-
thing should surprise us. And given enough
time, the dark will tear into light and the
children of enemies will run off to sire a
softer world and the fire of their love
will burn the records of revenge.
Sometimes the clap of a single heart
can change the politics of worth, can
make the thief bow down and plant
what he’s stolen, or let us wounded lovers
sigh, believing for an instant that our
capacity to feel is the blood that stirs time.
Sometimes to speak, not knowing what,
save that it comes from a well older
than all shame, sometimes this sort
of truth can rearrange the stars.
A Question to Walk With: Describe a moment when you encountered a pattern in life that is beyond your own thinking. How did this pattern present itself and how has it affected your understanding of life?
This excerpt is from my book, The Way Under The Way: The Place of True Meeting, 2016 Nautilus Award Winner.
*photo credit: Pixabay
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