Look at you there: holy,
solid, and still, as if all night
you had been walking the dark paths
of a once-familiar wilderness,
the death-sounds

of predation and mishap
nearly piercing you the whole way
— and now you’ve come
to a clearing and are standing there
under the blessing of the moon.

You cannot forget
the sounds that terrified you
but without them
pushing from all sides
you would not be here now.

Look at you, holy:
honoring the howling as holy;
as holy as this silence,
as holy as this light,
as holy as all else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’ve posted a rare public note on the craft behind this poem on my Patreon account, if you’re interested.