And exhilarated, below
this gorgeous sky,
Silver gray and grave
As Ireland in November, we
ask
For clarity on this day of
great
Darkness to know fertile
Spaciousness, the blazing hearth
Of our true home.
Help us to re-member this
place
Of simple being, of ease
beneath
The mountain of rock and
moss
And sage, the quiet inside
the clatter
Of habitual thought, the shimmering
Love welling up behind facades
Of seductive regret.
May we hold close, yet
lightly,
Those we have loved, who
Like whispers in December
wind
Have vanished and somehow stay
Bound still in this
mystery of earth and sky,
Memory and breath, where
wordlessness
Circles deeper, on and on and
on:
Twin hawks dissolving into
twilight’s
Golden arms.
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