you are the one who
disappears into the pages like a child’s open mind
the descent arduous, plagued by doubt
trust the process
the old woman chants
she was a poet of great esteem
before taking this post
to escort the wanderers
the innocent and the lost
she is at home here
tending her sacred duty
serving tea and dreams
from an antique urn
inscribed with myth and courage
trust the process, as she pours steaming
delicate porcelain symbol, text, imagery and light
you are the one who
holds the calling cards of moments
be sure to respect the ancient rules
of love and hospitality
first ask permission
to collect these fragments
before you return to the world
with its layers of reflection
light patterns laid over memory
fill the page with the small broken shards
create your own story
write your myth and pour your joy
plant a poem
and watch a forest grow
let them say
she wrote journals and kept a wild garden
