Up
“In the beginning”
begs the existence of a
dot, the endpoint of
a line referencing time and
movement, like an ant on
the Golden Gate Bridge.
If there is time (now)
and movement (how?)
why do we shun this
guess the size of a
galaxy, turn from the
possibility of a God
placing us just so?
I may travel by antenna,
feel my way blind on small
steel and close pavement,
stopping for crumbs.
But just because I cannot
see it does not mean
there is no sky.
Thank you, Jennifer. The words came after a workshop where we were encouraged to write between the lines. I like how this turned out.
I don't know how I missed this one. Superb. A poem to return to.
thank you, Diana.
Love this one, Jody. Thank you.