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âLight Between the Leavesâ
I did not come
to the keeper of answersâ
I came
to the shadow of a question.
Words fell from my hands,
pale and cold,
like ashes
that remember a forgotten fire.
Yet silence gathered them,
not to restore,
but to release.
This tree does not speak.
Still, it knows
what I have carried too long.
The wind does not teach.
Still, it opens
what I could not untie.
Hereâ
where nothing is given,
and nothing is takenâ
something remains.
A warmth
without a name,
a presence
without a form.
I learned,
not by finding,
but by ceasing to seekâ
that what I called emptiness
was only space
waiting
to be felt.
This morning light
belongs to no one.
And yet,
it rests upon all things
as if
it had always known them.
(Joe Vahi)
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