Courage

High up on Mount Diablo, along its ledged ascent, I forget 

he is dead. 

Above clouds, almost in night’s realm, I know nothing. 

Clouds flow under me as flocks of angels 

shielding me from the darkness below, 

waking me from all knowledge. 

From knowing I ever had a husband

nor knowing anything at all under cloud.

Indeed I am new born in veils of blue light. 

Used to just a picture in every room without the scan

of hazle eyes, no swallowing a brick.  

And just like that, I am used to living in sky

as if my house has been standing here all along, 

without its floor ever dropping away. 

And here’s what I tell myself:

Life must stay porous. Pathways must open 

so the mouse can wiggle free 

and the wild geese fly in. 

No matter how lonely I am, the world 

offers itself to my imagination.  

Mary Oliver believes this. I will believe her. 

Swear allegiance to her. 

But this will take patience. It will take time. 

It will take this palm fast on my heart.