by Gideon Burton
To witness, watching all the cosmos spark
and pulse when little breezes bend the petals,
or children's fingers hold you in the dark,
or leaves submit, dissolve as Autumn settles;
To witness, tasting Winter in the water
the hush along the skin from cotton's touch;
to see the goddess in your wailing daughter;
to sleep and wake and know it is enough.
To witness, speaking all the waking wonders:
I've heard the crickets, smelled the amber dusk,
I've tasted rain and trembled in the thunder,
I've chewed the rinds and cracked the stubborn husks.
To witness us, his scattered, scabby seed:
His sacrifice, His soul, His love, our need.
Photo: flickr - feelmystic
