Just A Little Ways Away

Shyly into that dark I went, as if into a dream – a dream about a poem. The poem and I, we two went off together so neither I nor it were alone. Come, follow me spoke the poem. I will show you how to pray. But first we shall visit your storied past. Please don't be afraid to ask questions, uttered the poem. 

See here how every year brought with it the possibility of a new life and within it different kinds of weather. Under the umbrella – see how still you stood, so separate in a crowd of so many.

And here now, in me the poem – caught are you and I in this dream complete with trees, birds, flowers and a restful house, full of family too – all just a little ways away.

But now of late none of the world's finest creators can seem to locate your solution – least they don't tell it. Would it were not so what would you have to say about your involvement in this crisis.

And then suddenly something comes rearranging my course. Both the sun and the rain beat down their warning. Steadying myself for hours, finally a cradle-shaped whisper sounding like a Leonard Cohen lullabye comes. In the letting go – so joyfully a rainbow appears overhead. 

And so it was – the poem's plot fully nourished. In its end the poem and I knelt down to pray. In that silence I thought: Yes, it is time. At its conclusion the unifying power brought on by a surge of a hundred smiles arose.

 . . . . .

But I also say this: that light is an invitation to happiness, and that happiness, 

when it's done right, is a kind of holiness, palpable and redemptive. 

– Mary Oliver

 . . . . .

A petal loosens, slips away and drifts high 'neath an azure coloured sky.