My Daughter, Sleeping
Now after all these years
I know indeed that there are moments
when the Presence comes through
and tells the endless tale of origins.
The music begins.
The musician bends over his instrument
and, singing, a different face looks
through his eyes.
And there, on the pillow,
the face of my child in repose.
I can read there
the confirmation of reality,
word after word.
Now I can see the testimony
that in the depths
all is as it must be
and that all shall be well.
Can anything be disastrous
as my child turns aside into sleep
and, turning outward into the wide cone of reality,
brings back the news that all is well?
I must change my life.
From the Red Cedar Review, volume 8, number 2 (1972). For more information on this author at the time of this publication, and other online issues of this publication go to: https://d.lib.msu.edu/rcr