Thursday, December 8, 2011

there are small lines

there are small lines ...
wires running through
and out of my hands and my feet
my eyes and my mouth

filaments that tether me
to the ground

i know this
because i've seen them
twice in my life:
once when the earth wished to swallow me up
and take me back
and once when i saw in your face that the earth
wished me to be more than i am

and i bet you know the small ways
in which those filaments can be brought to make music
much as the sun knows the snow
that settles around the tip
of a dried goldenrod
and teases its tongue around that
crystal circle
of containment

i hear the music of you in the rushed whispering
of the thin bodies
of the young trees
as we pass

i feel the songs of you in the small melt
of an ice-clouded puddle

somehow your words hold the whole
of the pieces together
and the formless scatter of my passage
melds with the flawless calligraphy of your voice
into a dance that brings the trees closer
each bowing in to see and to hear

what will be?
what will become?


erin said...

these questions have the same thin filaments that run through them into the earth and out of them toward the sun. the answer (i think) is only in their being. do you notice the holy posture of these things, chest open and arms out, willing?


Linda Sue said...

GASP! Sigh! I have to come back and re-read this at least ten times- another one to print out- Speechless!
touched deeply! moved, but I am not sure where! OMG this is amazing out of your head, Steven!Every line! WOW, love!

Ruth said...

Steven the photo in the woods sends filaments out my fingertips, toes and head in beauty.

rivergardenstudio said...

so much beauty here, the photograph, and the words...