Afaa M. Weaver


Country: United States
Language(s): English

How It Is New

At night the garden sleeps and changes itself,
adds new lines to a path, uncovers a small stone well,
moves the shadows of the temple so the sun
must adjust. The temper of the earth changes,
blue is more blue, green is less green, the white
streaks of clouds are thinner smiles. Last night
there was a rainbow working in it all, making
more what was less, feeding the thick way trees
cover the rough way up the mountain. I am
here at your feet waiting to see how you make
suffering less of what it is, how you take a worn heart
and kiss it over with lips attuned to giving, and
when you move from your perch here, there
will be a chance. I will lean over to where you were
and see all the secrets of getting through, of how
to climb through where leaves are as thick as tears
in the ocean, of how to call the eagles down
to land in my hand and dance without tearing me.

This morning I went out again, walking, despite
the crack in the bone, the slip of gristle in the joint.
In the corner of the gravel road, I found another paradise.