Like someone who falls
from a height into the water,
I’m past the fall and living
in the depth I fell into. Now
I must plant two seeds, for I
accept that one will be washed
away in the storm. Must give
more than take, so the seed of
love can root while we’re alive.
Must accept death, so life can
assert its vital shimmer each
time we wake. Must hold the
tsunami and the butterfly in
my mind-every day. For no
matter what the mammoth
wave flattens, a cocoon is
woven on what remains.
This excerpt is from my new book of poems in progress, The Tone in the Center of the Bell.
Photo credit: Sergei Akulich
