IN OUR PATH

Sometimes...

       it's simply lying there

                                               waiting

  on the flat vastness of the salt plains

               that we walk.

And if...

      we do not pass it by

              with eyes encrusted,

                      forgetting how to see,

Perhaps...

      we'll pause, our arms outstretched,

                knowing what lies there

                       waiting in our salt.

Not that

       we even ever, ever thought

                to find it there, alone, in all the dry,

                        so out of place.

But, still...

       is there a place where sudden music

                 waits a moving hand

                          to vibrate long-stilled strings?

Is there

       some better spot than this

                 for melody to pause and rest,

                           hoping for a coming, vibrant touch?

And we,

       have we some need preeminent

                  to steer us in some salted path,

                           leaving this unseen, all unaware?

Stop now,

        arms lifted high, raising inner hymns

                   that our eyes have seen,

                            our fingers soon will touch,

So it

       and we shall find a meldedness complete

                    when the ways of waiting song

                              dissolve our dustedness to light.

Jo Anzalone  6-28-2009

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