A Turning
Just a little shift - that's all it was -
and the world opened.
I had not thought
it so easy, nor so
difficult.
One moment I could
tell you
a long story of dark
and doom,
of impatience,
exclusive arrogance,
small seeing, my self
the centre.
The next moment, with
a loosening
not unlike the
shudder of a snake shedding
her beautiful,
patterned skin -
it all fell away,
blindness removed
like some healing
miracle
you don't want to see
on television.
I cannot explain this
turning.
I only feel its
effect.
It takes, I am told,
about a week
for a python to
complete her shedding.
During that time she
is blind -
a white milky
substance covering her eyes
until the old skin is
completely gone.
Only then do her eyes
clear.
Perhaps this is the
way
with humans also,
blind for years and
years while changes
nudge their slow way
through
the dance of light
and dark,
torment and ecstasy,
this and that,
wearing us down and
down
into the cave of
surrender.
Where, finally, just
at the moment
when all is surely
lost
the skin of illusion
pushes away at last.
Sight returns,
clearer than it ever was.
And in the twinkling
of an eye
the world is changed,
not ended
and a turning, like
heavy summer rain,
leaves the fresh
world sharply visible
and keenly new.
