Up there, somewhere beyond what is –
that place where tomorrow breaches
the stillness of despair –
softly, she dares to impugn
the unassailed logic of pain.
Yielding is her strength
though she is fraught with self-doubt,
it is feeling and not knowing
that draws her closer to godhood.
Man will know, so truth will escape him
Bends to storms of emotion, swaying
in their wakes, until the quiet time
when the zephyr of mother god’s voice –
not roiling of thunder, but the whisper of
rustling leaves on autumn trees – says,
you know the light, and light is truth.
Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow
will be your day, if you fear,
but walk, and cry but hearten, child.
You are strength because
is who I made you and I,
my child, draw no plans awry.
Feel, my dear, but hearten
for your pain is my strength and in bearing it
shall you be my vessel, and shall you be