Poetry

[haqiqu]

…here’s my hand
a ghazal for the year’s turn

sometimes watch your thoughts: leaves floating by on a stream
other times, hunt your thoughts down, be a predator
the witness knows which thoughts pass, which to devour

in winter earth’s summer colors fly into sky
a fleet sunset blooming, light cultivating cloud
gold, purple, red—our color-hungry eyes are fed

young moon brighter and brighter in deepening dusk
the slim curve brimming with night, someone bear witness:
three small birds swoop down to drink the moon’s reflection

a dust mote in god’s light, call it a galaxy,
a universe, call it me, how else would god see?
whirl on tiny one, small world, trust immensity

silent as sunlight, in this timeless way I move
whose hands hold the strings that pull the tides, rock my bones?
my feet are wind in the grass, watch me disappear

beloved friends, the world ends again and again
with each death, each year, each turn of an ancient wheel
beginning takes fierce courage, wild faith, here’s my hand.

Elizabeth Cunningham (and Maeve)