Hush

One day. It will find you.
A certain kind of hush.
Owl’s wings across your heart,
The steady soundless beat
In your chest,
Where once the Ravens clawed
and Stallions thundered
and rivers burst their banks in rageful tumult.
A calm will enter.
And your body will still.
Not a waiting stillness
but an earthen one
a bright star one
the heart of fire one
One of nascent life and vast cosmic movement
so immense as to be immeasurable by thought alone
One so deep that time cannot but touch it’s
edges as a kiss of wind on starlings wing tips.
The gift of sorrow felt.
Of grief survived.
The alchemical transformation of dawn
after a long
dark
night.