Magician's Wife

Sunlight falls on black branches
in complete silence.
Crystals on snow revealed by the light
do not move or tremble.
Blue shadows fall on snow
in perfect order, intensifying
the brilliance.
Puffs of smoke rush along, then disappear.
Everything in its place
the trees' joyful standing still
content in patience.
Only my heart moves restlessly
the firm grip of anxiety immovable
its roots buried deep and solid.

I try to hold onto purity,
steady but not crushing, like thin glass
in awe that here is the space to do it,
in awe at the love and mercy,
falling on my knees
to be deserving of this
to remember to shoulder the responsibility
- in the disaster that is our life,
it is them extending a divine hand.
In our despair, in our inability
to hold back the destruction, awful fate
wrought by us, in our blindness, weakness
terrible wrong decisions,
it is them bringing knowledge and guidance
us that have to receive it,
not close our eyes and say, it is too much.
It is us who brought the death,
them who brought the hope.