What I’m learning about grief is that
it comes and goes, like the shadow in front of me
on the afternoon sidewalk.
This god particle, if found, might provide light
and warmth, or another weapon capable
of ending time as we know it and sending us
into the dark where even a God can’t save us.
The distinct nothingness of my life
suddenly seems glorious,
a particle of dust dancing in the light
beside eight billion others
Sweet friend, hear me. There will always be trouble.
our hopes such as they are
invisible before us
untouched and still possible
…assess this particular pebble’s
cool weight in your palm,
the diameter of its smoothness,
the course it traveled over the seabed
There is a footstep
And the light of a lantern.
I hide myself beneath an old blanket
And become filled with the aroma of wheat.
Fifty-five years ago, I spent a memorable week on the tiny island of Iona off the west coast of Scotland, the site to which St. Columba came from Ireland in A.D. 563, to inaugurate the Christian mission to northern Britain.