Roots

I grieve to leave
this marrying web,
stepping once more
through the open door,
not turning my head
like Lot's wife to salt,
but standing beyond the doorways
which close forever on forever,
standing, as Jesus walked on water,
before "I don't know"
and "I might never see your face again
my mother father lover friends..."

Blissless I toast the horde,
the faces that filled my life
and vanished,
while I strove with grief,
briefed my soul to reach
for simplicity and splendour,
to set high goals and search
and leave them high
for the sun and wind to bless.

Conjuring the joy,
the peace,
of some dear face remembered;
now absent,
gone,
the fastness lent by love reflected,
a horizontal hold,
these things that tied me to the world,
roots,
anchors.

Oh I grieve
to leave
this marrying web,
stepping once more
through the open door,
not turning my head
like Lot's wife,
standing beyond the doorways
which close forever on forever,
standing, as Jesus walked on water,
before "I don't know"
and "I might never see your face again
my mother father lover friends..."

Scattered spider thread