You soothed my fears best with words—
strung them into parables, taught me
to look inside stacked forms
for clues, broke them down into
individual parts so I could trace
their threads back to some
ground of origin. As it is,
I’ve learned of depths
beyond which none of us
can go unless the going
is complete. Like happiness,
I suppose; or like that kind
of surrender. Deepest shadow
beyond blue shadows lapping
at the sill, deeper pulse
goading the compass needle.
What is fortune? When it’s time,
you said, you’ll know.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.