Revisioning

Five years, my friend, since I overheard
your tears because the universe was silent.
I never went as far as you, not pushed
to desolation’s reaches, but the nights
were almost as cold. From the past
a memory of beginnings made me watchful;
taking strange paths under indifferent skies
I longed to recognize the rare, distinctive
kindling in bone—its warmth was human.
If this was what I sought, affirmation,
of life so very nearly lost, it made
the terror of your anguish beautiful;
the chill of a silent God a heavenly fire.

Suffering burns us clean. This baptism we share,
though what in us is deepest seems the hardest
to surrender. And see now here, despite time’s
ruthlessness, love reduced to ash may feed new roots.

I live by faith now, as you do, discerning
in solitary spaces the freeing of the soul.
We listen still for voices, pay them heed,
but fashion from their words our own responses.
Revisioning is more than finding trails;
it is to move through dead ends to horizons.
it is to see new signs within old lands,
the ancient furrows break like children’s smiles.

Lee Tzu Pheng