AFTER READING THE JOURNALS OF GEORGE FOX
They told me, “We’re quite busy here.”
I told him, “Stay away from me.”
I lay awake. I watched the wind
Unwind the branches of a tree.
I passed exams, unpacked and packed,
Ordered and cancelled. Time went by
Like a foreign-language broadcast. Then
I saw a river in the sky.
Clear as the air but bright as ice,
It let the sun through to the wheat.
It rippled like a flare of song.
It pounded like a runner’s feet.
Down here, a form rocked in the surf.
A sidewalk stain was dirty red.
I saw the miracle reversed,
And what had been alive was dead.
And yet the flood of light above
Only swelled stronger, like a storm
Of joy, a conquest of delight,
A dream there was no waking from.