when
When I was wind,
I stacked stones to
blow against.
When I was mountain,
I swallowed wind’s
breath.
When I was stone,
I sheltered sun’s providence.
When I was sun,
I opened the gate for travelers to pass.
----
This poem is from the new collection, This Wild Arising, which I’m excited to publish in June.
As usual, I imagined I’d work more on it while traveling including recording the audio. I even purchased a good portable microphone. But this trip has asked something of me, to just be here walking and living, handling the minutae of backpack travel, knowing and trusting the way, the Way, the way.
Sending love and a poem from Santiago today!
Andrea Mai
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