...the way


I am barefoot, sometimes the way is soft, a frog

leaps pondward, touching my foot, the birds keep watch

I don’t know where I am going, what I will find

 

there are berries in fleeting season, wild flowers

in these I believe, my holy task is to see

or to swim so slowly a turtle barely blinks

 

can I be lost if I am here and here and here

does the one I called god ask any more of me

why do I cry silently all night for mercy?

 

the one I believed in is called the way; is he

a deer thicket, a swarm of bees, my bravery

as I prepare for undress rehearsal of death?

 

when the sun is high and hot there is only sweat

I forget tears, mosquitoes and ticks seek my blood

I bequeath my living body to this summer

 

how far must I walk to leave behind betrayal

my own and others’, when does it become blessing

Elizabeth, let go, your feet will find the way.