outsees two in the dark.

When asked, I now hesitate,

for there are so many ways

to love the earth.

I water things now constantly:

water the hearts of dead friends with light,

the sores of the living with anything warm,

water the skies with a thousand affections

and follow the voices of animals

into grasses that move like ocean.

I eat flowers now and birds come.

I eat care and things to love arrive.

I eat time and as I age

whatever I swallow grows timeless.

I eat and undie

and water my doubts

with silence

and birds come.

For That

FOR THAT

How could I know

creating and surviving

were so close

a membrane apart,

a pulsing, glowing film

of will, the muscle;

faith, the will

flexed.

How could I know

each day

is

the last

and

the first

and beneath

that tension,

if we wade below it

like the surface

of a sea, a chance

only coral

can feel

and there

we grow

so thoroughly

that breaking

and healing,

creating

and surviving,

first and

last are

one, the

same.

There,

beneath

the tensions

of psychology,

beneath the

pockets of doubt,

beneath the

prospect of

days to be lived

or not lived,

a moment

so calm

it is

cleansing

and I smile

through my

whole body

just to have

a body,

just to have

this orchestra

within that plays

to no conductor.

Will you believe me then,

that like the Zen monk

who finds wisdom

in his fears,

who hears more

than he can say,

will you believe me

that no matter what

is shucked or diagnosed

or bled, I would

trade places

with no one,

spirits

with all.

My purpose,

at last,

to hold

nothing

back.

My goal:

to live

a thousand years,

not in succession,

but in every

breath.

Questions to Walk With

QUESTIONS TO WALK WITH

•  In your journal, describe a time when you were asked to cross a line to get involved and stop watching. What made you cross that line? What made you get involved? Where does that quality of heart live in you? Can you have a conversation with it? Can you befriend that quality of heart and take its counsel?

•  Grief is such a universal and personal experience. In your journal, tell the story of someone you’ve lost and how their presence has appeared to you since their death.

•  In conversation with a friend or loved one, describe a time when the voice inside you changed its language and how you came to understand its new way of speaking. What has the voice inside been saying to you lately?

•  We are drawn to follow what matters. In conversation with a friend or loved one, describe three ways that what matters has appeared to you. What have these experiences shown you about the nature of what matters and how you relate to it?