THE OPENING OF EYES
That day I saw beneath dark clouds
the passing light over the water
and I heard the voice of the world speak out,
I knew then, as I had before
life is no passing memory of what has been
nor the remaining pages in a great book
waiting to be read.
It is the opening of eyes long closed.
It is the vision of far off things
seen for the silence they hold.
It is the heart after years
of secret conversing
speaking out loud in the clear air.
It is Moses in the desert
fallen to his knees before the lit bush.
It is the man throwing away his shoes
as if to enter heaven
and finding himself astonished,
opened at last,
fallen in love with solid ground.
Brightness and black specks
lift from the water
and from the geese
sound breaks over the lake
of wings beating through a clear sun.
Their necks extend upward
to the rim of the white mountain
where they close
into the black line of an arrow.
Each morning the old one rises
strings his bow
aims in the clear sun
and breaking the silence
with beating wings
looses the geese from bent arms.