Not far

A lone child in the woods cries out.
Seeking you, I am haunted
by the illusion of distance.

My mind chatters on, “Over there!
No, over there!” and drowns out
what my breath murmurs,”Right here. Right here.”

The buried seed still in its casket
is far
from the soil.

Prayer is no effort but the failure of my shell,
so the mighty root hairs
may emerge and do what they know.

Even in my loneliness and despair
the fish of me prays
in the ocean of you.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

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