When It Comes
Any time. Now. The next minute.
Years from today. You lean forward
and wait. You relax, but you don’t forget.
Someone plans an elaborate party
with a banquet, dancing, even fireworks
when feasting is over. You look at them:
All those years when you searched the world
like a ferret, these never happened – your marriage,
your family, prayers, curses. Only dreams.
A vacuum has opened everywhere. Cities,
armies, those chairs ranked in the great
hall for the audience – there isn’t anyone.
Like a shutter the sky opens and closes
and the show is over. The next act
will deny that anything ever happened.
Your hand falls open. It is empty. It never
held a knife, a flower, gold,
or love, or now. Lean closer –
Listen to me: there isn’t any hand.
Thank you Whiskey River for sharing William Stafford poetry: The Answers Are Inside the Mountains
Thank you Anake Goodall for sharing Artist: Tanha, Iran
- When no one listens, notices or sees…
- Give me the Splendid, Silent Sun…
- What touches you is what you touch…
- At this point you may want to park…
- If your heart is bleeding, make the best of it. There is heat in freezing, be a testament.