Sometimes the mountain

is hidden from me in veils

of cloud, sometimes

I am hidden from the mountain

in veils of inattention, apathy, fatigue

when I forget or refuse to go

down to the shore or a few yards

up the road, on a clear day,

to reconfirm

that witnessing presence.


“Some Questions You Might Ask" by Mary Oliver

  • Is the soul solid, like iron?
    Or is it tender and breakable, like
    the wings of a moth in the beak of the owl?
    Who has it, and who doesn’t?
    I keep looking around me.
    The face of the moose is as sad
    as the face of Jesus.
    The swan opens her white wings slowly.
    In the fall, the black bear carries leaves into the darkness.
    One question leads to another.
    Does it have a shape? Like an iceberg?
    Like the eye of a hummingbird?
    Does it have one lung, like the snake and the scallop?
    Why should I have it, and not the anteater
    who loves her children?
    Why should I have it, and not the camel?
    Come to think of it, what about the maple trees?
    What about the blue iris?
    What about all the little stones, sitting alone in the moonlight?
    What about roses, and lemons, and their shining leaves?
    What about the grass?

Love After Love

“The time will come

when, with elation

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your own mirror

and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel your own image from the mirror.

Sit. Feast on your life.”

Derek Walcott

“The jasmine bud is not afraid to be tiny;

Fullness reigns in its heart,

Invisibly.” rabindranath tagore