I made the choice
to move forward
but I break my
own word
and belief
when I forget that fact.
Night pulls over
my eyes
as I wander
into what could be
and yet
the crunched glass
sliding against my skin,
to walk away
and not look back—
the dying embers
of a fire in the sand
and I remember
that I also
cast my net upon the sea
and left it floating
in the outgoing tide.
Perhaps love
sealed by tears
and shared in laughter
is the one
to help us grow.
Perhaps the needle
that pierces
is the same one
knitting us together.
I miss the feel
of your hands
wrapping around my fingers.
I miss the look on
your face when I know
you are here
to comfort me.
I miss the knowing
of your presence
in quiet accompaniment.
My image of you
is broken,
washed away
by ever-coming rain
of questions and discovery,
but in all that learning
I miss those images
of who I thought you were
outside of myself
but now must look inside
to find I am you
living in a thousand
different ways.
In the trees and water
and in each face I see.
And still,
I miss your hands.
Floating along
as a tiny droplet
in a wide-open sea,
I wonder what
is down and above.
Where does the warmth
on my surface
come from
and why do the
waves ripple around me?
What is there beyond
the edge of me?
I hear the currents,
feel them moving me along.
I see the deeper forces
and find I am a droplet no more
but an entire ocean
stretching from shore to shore
washing upon the sand
and back down
into the depths below.
Sarah Katreen Hoggatt is a writer, poet, workshop leader, and spiritual director whose work is described at sarahkatreenhoggat.com. She is an independent member of Sierra Cascades Yearly Meeting of Friends.