Vespers

I wish I had the words to describe what I see, to share it,
walking home, early evenings, fast, small, insignificant against the wild horizon bearing
down on me, all ombre and upcloud, and big beat winds boom,
foreboding, exhilarating, the sheer scale of what I see,
northern cliffage, darkened pleather like foil capped waves whipping,
the lake that runs into the nearby ocean, cold and hostile,
blackened boughs and branches and melee,
Hurry home, hurry home, hurry home.
And late at night the November storm rocks the cradle, my cradle,
what is my cradle, is it my bed,
my heart, my breath,
my pulsed bloodwill to-
go furthur,
curled and holding space,
still. Still. child, hush, still, this too shall pass.

Happy, sad, reverent, exhausted.
Unable to pray.
In any conventional way.
Think on those I love.
Wish them spirit for the roads they take.
The malleability and strength of water
the mysterious weightlessness of the ether,
the warmth of the sun,
the clarity of the cold brilliance of the stars.

We live in a hostile environment,
we make ourselves such hearths and homes as we can,
we seek shelter.
For body, soul, and mind.

Keeping my porch light on.
I can't pray. I am prayed. It is. Enough.