The Sound of Light

Through the night, a hard rain spoke. Everyone else slept as if hypnotized by an incessant conversation. But I listened to my inseparable brother. He asked for no pardon, so I offered none. This is IT, Watery Way. I am hearing things these days. Murmurs move from weightless echoes into tangible clarity. Teacher, your dust falls upon my crown and I will never not be grateful for the way you held my hand – wordy and fierce. Now there is walking for movement's sake, for I have nowhere else to be. The thievery of dreamfall surrenders to justice.

Now I know what a smile is – an elegant light, spreading recognition.

A smile into the toddler's curiosity at the market. A smile through steamy brown rice. A smile when I dropped the day's clothing for bed sheets . . .

Naked now, laughter borders the cosmic play.

Then silence – a transparent skirt spreading from the sounds of life. Emptied and quiet, the heart accepts it all.

And Love allows me to fall into It, as if I had gone somewhere, so that “I” might hear, over and over again: the Beloved is in love with You.

I am in Love with . . . [Y]ou.

Dawn arrives, splitting the rain, and light is all I can hear.