CERTITUDE.

I
Most mornings I set out after dawn, not sure where to go,
but hopeful that the voice of God and I
will cross paths—that my own road to Perdition will
remain hidden. The wind blows in my ears,
deafening me a little from the world, I learn to accept it.

Beside the silent lake I catch my breath—
close my eyes and they’ll all be gone.

II
I only see the living in my dreams:
African faces, far-away sisters, my hand held
in another’s—the still trees say,
“We know what is in your heart”—better than I do.
When I wake, the meaning of the world is lost.

III
Beside the silent lake I catch my breath—
I will try to help you through.

I am wiping the sand away,
some day I will understand it all.

What is in my hands does not belong to me.

(July 19, 2008)