SHOULD A HURRICANE SWEEP OVER YOUR LIVES

You ask me to tell you what you’re like
Me, who once defined you as begotten by light;
Me, having beheld you as light.
There should be nothing beyond that light,
That light of yours.

You ask me to tell you what you’re like,
Today, when you got lost in an
Airport concourse, and
Seeing you off, it seemed as though
Angels were tearing you from me,
Beyond my utmost me.

You ask me to tell you what you’re like,
When I spent last night awake, a long night,
Mulling over what you’re like,
Mulling what I’m like,
Musing on your hands playing with snow,
And on your eyes, the realm of night.
I’m not telling you what you’re like. You just are.

Thus I only want
To tell you what you shall recall:
Do remember and cherish your quietness;
Whether up North, in the quivering shadow of a poplar;
Whether down South, in the breeze from the orange grove;
Remember how a storm rips
Through the reeds, and the reeds won’t flinch,
They don’t snap,
For they’re limber.

Wait and sow seeds
Like the wind that scatters stars,
Come autumn, you’ll reap the fruits.
If you keep your calm, and
Stay bright even in the sunshine,
Be limber, breathe in the peace
The way the light breathes.
Neither the rushes nor scents nor light
Ever break.

Should a hurricane sweep over your lives,
Should a hurricane raze over your lives today,
Breathe calmly amidst the fury, deep,
And wait.
Now, more than ever,
Be limber,
Be rushes, scents, light.