Thursday, December 26, 2019
Breath––poem by Dorothy
Breath
You are the bow that shoots the arrows
and you are the target.
Rilke Sonnets to Orpheus)
Yes, it is breath
and yet more than breath.
It is what flows through
the veins
when we are not looking,
rivers of delight,
cascades of feeling.
It is that bird
looking at me
as I look at it,
it is the sky
enfolding me,
vastness beyond
my capacity to say.
And yet it is also breath,
what anchors me
to this plane of earth,
what sustains me here
and perhaps in
that other unknown
and unknowable realm,
that guessed at
and surmised,
that undetected and yet
surely awaiting
realm,
as familiar as rain,
as certain as sunrise.
Dorothy Walters
December 23, 2019
