One pale, quiet morning,
I open my soul’s eyes
unarmed with faith or company,
responsibility or joy,
and see quite plain
the vastness of it all, the loneliness,
the very impossibility of life.
A hand in the desert -
will there be a hand?
Someone who knows the way
to travel this grey distance
and find the distant hills?
The question hangs
in the still air. But
in the birdless silence
is that the gentle ripple
not mocking or sardonic
but inviting, is that -
oh please, is that -
a companionable laugh?
© C.M. 03/13
