WISHING TREE

WISHING TREE

All the years trying to explain the spirit's wishing,
this wishing tree, dropping seeds foolishly
upon the common ground, this life,
uprooted, carried for meaningless distances,
groaning in thirst.

Is there a center to the emptiness,
a place where all the nonsense becomes relevant?

Joy has traveled far, centering the pain,
smoothed scars in harmony with the whole, unrecognizable,
grown beautiful to eyes that see.

Where are those eyes? Will I ever see anyone as they are?
Will anyone ever see me?

Sometimes truth is bearable. It proves its worth.
The delusions drift apart and the sun
bursts through the seams. . .

The heart is alone . . .
In every conversation the unspoken haunting
the fragile distance of the unspeakable,
voice falling back upon silence.

It strikes me that every seed must surrender,
crack open and die, into life.