We know that the dark helps us
to see light, and we know this is
a scientific fact and this is also
a figurative way of thinking.
What’s evil casts a light on the good,
What scares us teaches us about
what gives us comfort, hope, joy.
Have you ever noticed that
objects in silhouette, as dark
as dark can be (because of the light),
never look quite as dark as the blackness
of a tunnel, or of a deep, starless night
(or a day lost to despair)?
A thing at its darkest, surrounded
and inflected by the great and powerful sun,
retains the brightness that
has given it life, does not invite
the void, never-ending, never-sweet.
We fall into darkness (the way
we fall in love); a silhouette is
sculpted in relief, its contours
made of light; there is no falling,
only emergence. The silhouettes
of autumn, the most moving of all:
not hesitant, but lingering,
The glimmer is the dying of a day
The glimmer is soft and yearning,
The glimmer is you.
I am my contradictions;
I am not my contradictions.
You will find me here,
a little too far away, maybe,
from the depths of the ocean floor,
where movement is unweighted grace,
and the talking, deep and sonorous
and capable of stretching for miles,
exactly and quietly where it needs to go;
a little too removed, maybe,
from the vast blanket of sky,
that knows how to stay,
that holds space for shifting clouds
suspended, it seems to me,
in a state of satiation and whimsy,
unburdened by their responsibility
to nourish us, to not fall right down
before their job is done;
and there is no clashing of the clouds,
is there, only seamless integration.
I am not in one place or the other,
and before I can determine what this means
about where I am,
my mind drifts like the sea creatures and the clouds,
chasing colours I am sure I have forgotten.
But I remember –
it is in my nature, as I try
to find the ground between,
the soft, bold place in the center of my being,
to get caught between two places
now and then as I journey through
the realms of hope and hunger and despair,
to love and hold the untruths that
have made me, and regard them, and let go,
as I make my unhurried movement,
like the dolphins do,
I Stand with the Dreamers
I am with the Dreamers
I awaken each day to the miracle
Of a sun that still,
In the face of all this, rises,
Grows strong and golden
And blasts us with a rush of warmth
Reminding us of time’s cycles,
Of renewal, and how brief it all is.
I want to use the time wisely,
To create the love and acceptance
And justice I want all around me.
I look at the sun; it is impossible,
Regarding its striking power,
To think of Earth, or any part of it,
As mine, as belonging to me.
In this way, I, like you, might be
Utterly, completely, blessedly free,
And am appalled at how quickly
It can all fall apart.
I am a Dreamer, like you.
I do not live where I was born,
I was not born in my parents’ countries,
And their parents come from
Another place still.
Is this not, going back far enough,
The state of things for us all?
I weep for the nature of circumstances
That took my ancestors from me
Before I could know their legacy,
That today grant me movement
And wrest from others
The right to their dreams.
For what holds us here, fragile and unsure,
But the dreams we carry with us,
That bear witness to our fear and pain,
That promise of a bright tomorrow
That will keep on expanding
With every dream that dares to fill it?
We are all Dreamers
In our pursuit of the pure and true,
In our wish to know that
Our pain can be lessened,
That our hopes,
Lively, imaginative and necessary,
Live and that they matter.
I stand with the Dreamers,
In a world that can only survive
On the breath of every last one
Of its beautiful dreams.