Tracking a whisper across frontiers of change,
I collect travel technology;
for the atrium of unknown.
Caverns in my heart and belly where trust would be,
I used to call this feeling loneliness
but today I must relinquish my church of planning,
a homey voice in my telephone pocket,
for the land that roars ahead of me, stretching stranger
and wider than I can configure.
— Julia Daye
Last Friday, I met a man who hugged me so deeply,
he somehow transmitted into me a cloud
of wakeful peace,
straight past a layer of cerebral
exhaustion, straight through my body
and into my heart.
I thought he must be quite courageous
to allow these things to flow as
quickly as they arrived.
I recalled in shame how I had in the past
hoarded love, hoarded light, hoarded sweetness
in all its manifestations.
And I no longer needed to clamor for love
in so many places and things
because, this day,
in his infinite salutation,
it all was.