I awoke this morning in the gold light
turning this way and that.
thinking for a moment it was one
day like any other.
But the veil had gone from my
darkened heart and I thought
it must have been the quiet
candlelight that filled my room,
it must have been the first
easy rhythm with which I breathed
myself to sleep,
it must have been the prayer I said
speaking to the otherness of the night.
And I thought this is the good day
you could meet your love,
this is the black day someone close
to you could die.
This is the day you realize
how easily the thread is broken
between this world and the next
and I found myself sitting up
in the quiet pathway of light,
the tawny close grained cedar
burning round me like fire
and all the angels of this housely
heaven ascending through the first
roof of light the sun has made.
This is the bright home in which I live,
this is where I ask my friends to come,
this is where I want to love all the things
it has taken me so long to learn to love.
This is the temple of my adult aloneness
and I belong to that aloneness
as I belong to my life.
There is no house
like the house of belonging.