it is the cracks that let in the light

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it is hard to see the darkness
of these days, morning sun
bright shadowed on heather
and grass thick dewed.
it is hard to see.
.
it is hard to remember
who spewed what hate
at which fractured piece of humanity –
who threatened divided
ate power made of discord.
it is a dark shore
these morning waves
break on.
it is hard to see

but knee deep in the pushing tide
at the edge of our unknowing
we take this holy water
wash unseeing from our eyes
taste the ocean salt of our bodies
and turn again to face the shore
to see the horizon cleave darkness from the sky,
become mountain and hill and home.
a murmuration of hope
alive in our bones.

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