End of a Visit

You are going away again,
as you have so many times.
But wait,
have you packed everything?
One never knows
what one really needs.
Check again, examine the luggage -
So often we leave the necessary behind.

You are packing, I see you -
Your suitcases one on top of the other,
just as you pile the fears.
And the compressed thoughts
hanging
swinging
like the swollen purse dangling from your shoulder.

You collect all the parts of yourself.
And then, as is always your way,
you leave the door
open behind.
You don't look back.

I tell you Don't worry.
I myself, as before, will close the door.

Jerusalem Light

With golden eyes
she rose dazzled before dusk
the mountains beneath her
and all the hills
filling like panes with liquid suns

In this hour
she lights her towers
like candles
or perhaps after blessing the fire
she has raised her hands
to cover her face with light

A Night in Acadia

Cold, very cold.
On a small island, by the edge of the Sound a woman
in her dream tosses. She hears the water
soften the rocks. And the tree tops
in their shiver answer the wind's shiver.

Steps. Inside the night she hears
voices are looking
for a way
to the water.
No one has a torch. She dreams the dark.
And there are no stars
to show the way.

Only let's not stumble and fall, one says,
his voice like the hand
that trembles for another.

Then laughter.
Then silence again.
Only silence, as white breaths
in the dark.

The water ebbs. She hears it recede.
She hears it.
And the clouds lie down,
fog.