Wisdom Path

When it comes, it comes slowly.
God didn’t send it.  It wasn’t sent at all.
It just comes, and when it comes, it comes slowly
on its own wisdom path.  

If asked, it will say, “I came to be here
because this path that opened
inexorably before me
brought me here.”

Mountains at the edge of the scenery
will nod almost too slowly to notice, and
the long hair of meadows
shall wave its assent.  The earth

will agree with it at once, once it
has arrived.  Then, as it serenely kills us,
we will be forced to accept
that some expertise pushed for this,

that even Wisdom itself seems bent
on using catastrophe to instruct,
and that we seem unable to learn.