Now
I shuffle on snowshoes through the pines
in last night’s snow--so where I am
was not here yesterday--and arrive
at a rocky creek, ice tightened
over the chatter of secret water.
Earlier I knew every question,
my name was “He-Who-Answers-Himself.”
Now I am only whatever listens,
whatever sees what’s hidden below
and everything hidden above.
Now I am breaking, coming together.
I am so alive I have forgotten my life.
(first appeared in Many Mountains Moving, 2007)
