Thursday, April 25, 2019

On His Birthday

I asked you what you wanted
For your birthday; it’s now arrived 
This early spring day, 
And you shed some tears
And said,
“I want my sight back,”
And that stymied me:
Now what? 
And then I began to think
Perhaps 
You do have sight.
I mean, this trauma has delivered
Insight and patience, 
Resilience embedded in 
The lessons of never quite knowing, 
The lessons that one really doesn’t want 
To have to learn,
The inchoate lessons that 
Emerge to keep one going.
Faith floats out there
On a heretofore unknown horizon
It’s not sharp or clear, and muddies 
Contours that already are not crisp,
But there waiting is a different promise
That one hopes to never realize
Because the price of such clarity
Is too dear to contemplate. 
So you just keep on
And you find 
I think, perhaps 
That thrive is a goal tinged
With the golden fog of hope,
And the slow dawn, the 
Process of a dawn that tells you that 
You are just fine. 
You see all 
You need to see. 
And you continue on. 

~ Peter, April 25

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