I’ve been treating myself lately to as much John O’Donohue as I can get my hands on. And, since he was hospitable and richly forthcoming with his output, it is readily available and just, oh, so, nourishing. Please read slowly. Read again and again. I did. It’s so worth it. Enjoy…
For Ellen Wingard
Among the kingdom of the winds,
Perhaps, there is one of elegant mind
Who has no need to intrude
On the solitude of single things.
A wind at ease with the depth
Of its own emptiness, who knows
How it was in the beginning,
Before the silence became unbearable
And space rippled to dream things.
A wind who feels how an object strains
To be here, holding its darkness tight
Against the sever of air, ever eager
To enter, and with a swell of light
Dissolve the form in its breathing.
A wind from before memory
Whose patience will see things become
Passionate dust whorled into sighs
Of ghost-song on its wings.