Defenders of Wildlife

Nearly Knowing

Nearly Knowing
Nearly Knowing

We will all suffer when wilderness and wildlife are gone.

Leave me here in exile,
in the soundlessness it speaks,
for my mind, on the mountain,
in the wind, out of earshot,
in the morning, until evening,
until everything retreats.

Leave me here to linger,
to my defenses wearing thin,
in the cold as the hands numb,
in the forest where there is none,
to a level right above you,
where contentment becomes you,
in the name of all,
in the sun and Fall,
in currents ever-mixing.

I am nearing, nearly knowing,
when the tide comes,
where the course flows,
why the fields lay bare,
why I travel there.

I am sun-drenched, refreshed,
a sprout springing anew.
I am bird songs, invisibles,
fiddleheads, and nimblettes.

So leave me,
to linger, here in exile,
on the mountain, in the wind,
out of earshot, and refreshed,
in the morning, until evening,
until everything repeats.

M. Fitzpatrick


 

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