Cal

Cal

the mountain willed rain ~
granite resolve pulled the mist in close like a prayer shawl
as we tatooed prints in the soil

grace perched on the ledge
watching our descent
and shaping our current
to hers

words grew wings as we remembered you,
paths and warrens lit up like Christmas trees;
we, the profane ornaments joining in perfect matrimony
to the place you now rest

I could see your Jesus and their Jesus, and Christ himself ~
all held in the Tao,
dissolving in luminous sadhana
as the Sufi and the Jew and the mystic and the atheist walked each other home;
as grace exhaled and struck a yellow lanterned tent just back from the ledge ~
and as rain and tears vied for first purchase of my tired, joyful cheeks

~shanti