One More Taste

When on the go, there are more

places to go. When stopped, I’m

surprised that everything that matters

is where I am. Still I go and stop, fall down

and get up, love and get hurt. Though I see

all for a second and nothing for a long time,

I believe in all. Though I wanted everything

quickly, I now want everything to slow. Now

I wonder about the majesties that no one ever

sees: the glitter of quartz in the throat of the

mountain, the tenderness between those who

never show it, and the ounce of truth rising

like a bubble in the ocean of all being while

we bloody the surface. Yet I wouldn’t change

a thing, except to have those we love live one

more day, so we can say what’s in our heart,

and bring them one more taste of what it is

they crave. And so, I’ll wait for you and for

all you are to be seen. I’ll wait for the Earth

to turn its face one more time to the Sun.

I’ll give thanks and wait for things to open

before they pass, like sap oozing through

its bark, like a flower splitting its stone.

A Question to Walk With: In conversation with a loved one or friend, tell the story of something in our life that has taken a long time to open.

This excerpt is from a book in progress, The Fifth Season.

*Photo credit: George Becker