The Spring of
What do you want
I asked
sensing you might want something
from me? for me?
with me
yes, with me
(that feels better, somehow)
we want something together, the two of us
a partner
said your voiceless longing
you mean me
I realize, a warm wind under my skin
to express ourselves -
to give shape to the sound of being
to give our voice to the song
we’ve all been humming under our breath
what are its lyrics, I wonder
it's so good to be alive
surfaces, settles, pervades
it is
(it seems to me)
good to be alive
even when
(inhale)
it hurt the most,
even if
(exhale)
it hurts again
and then, finally
a whispered sweet everything, quiet and strong
there’s nothing to be afraid of
completes the couplet
an escort of Kingfishers winging ahead of us
along the Zabalo
showing us the way
In the winter of 2014, I heard David Whyte’s poem The Winter of Listening for the first time, while listening to an episode of On Being. Every line, it seemed, gave language to an aspect of my experience that I was struggling to understand. Its insight and companionship carried me through many difficult years. One morning in the spring of 2025, I sensed a shifting of season underway and wrote this in response.