page 73

the woman said to the pairs
of eyes standing around her,

I am quite excited for this travel.
My clothes are new, my satchel is full,
and my shoes are taut and unweathered.

can't we accompany you?
asked one of the eyes.

I am afraid you cannot. You are all
nomads. I, however, am an explorer.

There is a difference, and I cannot
say how one becomes an explorer.

whilst the eyes looked around
dejected and angry,

a young pair of eyes without shoes,
hung filthy clothes, and a deprived

stomach, moved her hand quietly
over her heart.

seeing this action,
the explorer smiled at the young eyes

from the corner of her mouth,
sat up, and turned

to a new direction to travel.
she announced confidently,

Do not worry! Some of you
will...and have realized...

how to truly explore.

:::

after magnifying the wings of a butterfly one day,
a biochemist nearly lost her head at what she saw;

the pigments were segmented into parts.

not like feathers,
not like freckles on skin,

but as scales---such as the ones
on a slate-roofed house.

slate-roofed, polychromatic, and fragile
wings;

the biochemist then realized
butterflies are not simply beautiful;

they exemplify how beauty can be both
harnessed and protected;

their wings teach us we are
as strong as we are delicate.

:::

to live life wholly is to

sip its tea with virgin gratitude and joy;

you must let the tea's ingredients steep.

do not ask for how long or when;

impatience will burn the lips

of your greed and taste dull

on the palate of your desires;

patience gives to life what tea gives to water...

     for however patiently your heart

     permits it to steep.

:::

somewhere,

eyes are closed and flowers

are rested to peace with the peacefully rested;

somewhere,

a dirt-covered, fabric-torn, and spirit-tattered

child is laughing with her mother in refuge;

somewhere,

a dozen hands push on the tail lights
and rear fender of a car drowned in snow;

somewhere and always,

there is connection;

somewhere and always,

there is the human spirit.

:::

the tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick

of white, reflective, dashed lines
keep time with the forward momentum

of me. of that person in the next lane.
of that person in front of me. on my left.

behind me.

the lights above hum by and illuminate
the faces of those inside whom are with me,

traveling at this same forward momentum.
i see red tail lights and white headlights

but i see no direction. no speed;
there is this momentum. there is this

     and only this...
     going.

:::

Your enduring absence

continues to teach me how to survive without You;

sustained i will be,

before You come back.

sustained i will be,

if You never return.

annihilated i will be,

trust-willing i get close enough

for a single moment

to see those eyes point-blank.

~

succumbed to a child-like curiosity;

should i lunge for the grasshopper?

in which it then springs away.

or should i simply look on?

while the grasshopper stays put,

knowing i want to catch it...

resisting my youthful ego.

You can have what cannot be haved.