Under the cover of darkness, or in the blaze of mid-day, there are the brief encounters with the teacher: the real teacher. When we are young or when we are misinformed, the lessons are ignored or avoided. As though that final test could be dismissed, no thank you, I prefer not. It cannot be dismissed. Under the cover of darkness, when we are most exposed, or in the blaze of mid-day, when we least expect it, we are offered these little practice sessions. Just listen! It is Guará come back not to haunt, and neither to taunt, but to instruct.
Poem the Shape of an Egg – Mark Schultz
| Poem the Shape of an Egg | |
| It is the door I return to and must pass through though my heart burst and my body become a sigh I am a room between there and there my breath will not follow beyond the walls my breath is a wave that reaches the shore though my heart burst and the wave dissolve like a sigh my hand lifts the latch and nothing grows if I look out on nothing does my room freeze in time |
do we imagine darkness because time turns the world since light has always been a single ray burns all of this ashes at the door of my impossibility fear is the ice melts in a flicker of light I have walked to this door many times every time the way is shorter there is no other from here there is only out |
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