Somewhere We Know


Somewhere we know

that without silence words lose their meaning,

that without listening speaking no longer heals,

that without distance closeness cannot cure.

—Henri Nouwen

And so I praise the miles that carve

the mountains, praise the hours that cleave

these dayfulls of distance. Praise the longsome weeks.

In the meantime, wild geese delineate sky

with their dark floods of November wing.

They will fly places we’ve never been—

how I want to meet you there and there.

And I won’t let want steal the splendor here:

how the spindle of night unspools till the stars

spill above the rumors of wave in the river

that does not stop. Mygod, it is so beautiful.

I have not stopped loving you across silence.

Between words, this winged love does not stop.

2 thoughts on “Somewhere We Know

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