the prayer of reeds
Starfish swim from the child’s eyes.
Scarves of music stream from her ears.
A mushroom speaks to her of underground rivers,
The moving tides of limestone soils, her skin.
She lives in a world of sensing, sensing life.
Was told not to believe in magic.
Here we speak of numbers, the primes to be precise.
A scientist’s mind spirals, wills a pattern to peal Into song
In vain.
A circle
includes imaginary pointers.
Irrational symbols we cannot live without.
The child is adrift on the shifting sands of human knowledge.
Where do mathematics live or the three wise magi?
An ocean sweeps through her hemlock hills.
Human hearts move through her in a single wave.
I stand amid the prayer of reeds with her.
With astonished need to understand.
Primes are indivisible but to themselves.
Their silence demands surrender.
A singularity.
Ease
The wrestling with words and symbols, chains between objects
Where objects never were: The search for meaning made useless.
A cage springs its lock, pours out new courages
Into the small country I once believed myself to be.
The child a universe.
Story is now too far removed from who we are.
Sprinkle the silent seeds of love into your sleep.
You will taste it then, the child, your being the sweetness in all things.
credit: unsplash | weston mackinnon
