Next….

Sometimes the necessary

step to take next

is to stop,

not to step at all,

but to recline on cool grasses

near the lake’s edge

with eyes closed, listening

to clouds hovering,

tasting the articulate wind,

resting in earth’s cradle;

or to stand at an arched doorway

next to a tall stranger,

a woman with short brown hair,

where together in the shy heart

of stillness you face the unseen

interior of an ancient church

for as long as it takes--

until in the uncertainty of refraining,

Silence whispers her delightful language

and you both begin trembling,

footprints swept away, erased

in floodwaters of surprise

by a river of fire arising

from that which birthed this church,

rousing every cell, sinew and desire

of your bodies’ once quiescent futures

towards whatever happens next….