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 forall 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