Poem of the Month: Epiphany

Gather the gold dust

with the broom of your heart.

Light a fire.

All is not lost,

just dispersed by the force

of other dominions.

 

You stand in the wake

of all that has happened here

and passed through,

pale afterimages of your love,

torn wrappings, crumbs,

stale beds.

 

The light of this day

exposes a more ancient ore,

the map you have sensed

in the echo of frozen wells,

in the passing bird songs

in your winter dreams

 

Step out, traveler,

walk past the familiar trails,

trust a wilderness

as close to you as your own heart,

and the darkness

that already enfolds your true name.