That which we seek may not show forth today
—perhaps this is a hidden blessing.
Moon and stars light the night skies,
making way for bright sun / cold morning.
Masked faces pass one another silently,
like quiet and distant ghosts.
Solitary cyclists ply their courses,
weaving between pedestrians with care.
Fisherfolk, in shorebird form,
bide their time, lying in wait for canny nourishment.
People prepare humble meals at home,
created with simple ingredients to hand.
Come nightfall, all creatures
retire to their respective nesting places.
Thoughtful quiet descends.
There is a measure of,
if not peace,
acquiescent composure.
The tension between oppression and freedom
is bridged by self-control,
wherein this condition apart
is allowed to uphold fragile integral nature,
very like the deliverance depicted in any miracle play.
If we were not so self-conscious
within our self-regulated austerity,
we might yet hear the song
of the hummingbird's dream,
might feel the earth’s hum in our bones,
might awaken to the nascent answer
of the riddle of our existence,
then tattoo it, as a reminder,
on our opened-ever-outward palms,
ready to accept and to give blessing,
as the journey rolls on.
© 2020 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen and songsofasouljourney.blogspot.com
photo by Rick Lewis for Bay Nature magazine, April - June 2016
