It is fitting to begin entries in this blog with a poem that has been with me for quite some time ~ written beside the stream at my home. I have tried to capture the pulsing water beneath the roots in different seasons, but as we know, the camera can never completely capture what the eye sees. The poem is from WALK INTO A MOMENT.
Hallowed Place
Step into
the stream’s clear pool
Search along
gray rock
That will
not weather
Beyond
sandbanks as they curve
Toward the
sycamore, leaning
From spreads
of fern
The water
pulses
But is not
rushing, is not deep
Compressed
beneath the lowest root
Laid bare
and reaching
Kneel to
meet it bubbling forth
Washing
over, flowing down
Rest upon
the stretch of tree
Through
shadowed branches
Daylight
broadens vibrantly converging
How is one to be in your presence?
Who fills gaps in every part of me
Who does not need me to tell what has
passed
For you were there
So I could, if I would
Turn and know
You are here for me
