Presence

You cannot see a breeze;

You can feel it slice your sun-reddened face,

And rise and fall, the siren of your ears,

And whirl the leaves,

And part the grass like Moses.

You cannot name a breeze;

It will not be owned or ever blocked,

Or kept from some dark corner,

Or tempted or repulsed,

Like a quantity of something made.

When I knew spirit, it was a breeze;

It did not cool or silence the din in my head;

It found me fearsome in my room

Where I was helpless and alone with my friends,

Casting shame into a parting flame.

I know the breeze now from the wind;

We rise and fall together, nameless and unseen,

But ever felt when absence haunts the world

And eyes start at the memory of love.

Our fire does not consume.

�

� David Kaczmarek, 2006

All Rights Reserved.�
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