It Is Poem by RIC BASTASA

it is in the utter darkness that our eyes
work hard to see
complacent in the light of day
they are caught
in the traps of blind corners,
refusing to see
what is obvous to the ears
and the rest of the senses,

it is in the coldest season of winter
when we feel the sparks
of warmth from the hidden hand
the one we love
and cherish
becoming more visible
to these tributaries of
touch
these feelings of being
inside but outside still
the alienation
of presences,

it is during the lowest ebb
that you will see how stable
are the rocks underneath

that in this time
you shall know how to walk
when all the confusing waters have gone away

it is, it is, it has always been that way
but you have been listening not