The 12:15 train west of here always runs late
those who frequently ride it know this
and arrive late themselves
perhaps never considering, as they load their baggage
and prepare for the trip,
that the meaning of “On Time” has, without fanfare
or public announcement, been altered.
It could happen like this.
To the south, the Horse Woman walks out to greet the herd,
looking up from their pasture at her arrival.
The large, black, lead mare, Wayfarer, walks over to meet her
two queens in their full, restrained power
not affectionate but clearly respectful.
The woman moves her hand slowly across the mare’s neck
exchanges a sustained, timeless glance, and moves into the herd
as if some ancestral thousand-year ritual of greeting
has just happened, as natural as a row of trees,
as solemn as rising river waters in Spring
all held in one silent and sacred glance.
It could happen like this.
Just north of where we sit tonight
two children have run off when their grandmother looked away.
Leaving the shelter of home they race outside in their pajamas
immediately shocked when their tiny bare feet hit ice and snow.
Lost and afraid now in the windy cold they look for a way home
to a grandmother who cannot be found.
A bus driver notices all of this and stops,
pulls the children into the warmth and safety of her bus
perhaps opening an unseen wedge of freedom, light and hope
for others who will one day be lost and alone, frightened.
It could happen like this.
This story should end in the East, where all things begin,
but the Spirit of the Horse Woman has apprehended it
taking it where only she wants it to go.
If there is a heaven, as some say, it could be a Presence,
not a destination, containing rare elements we recognize —
Timelessness, a glance that sees into the very core,
an embrace that reaches out, saves and liberates
everything and everyone it touches
a wandering through-line that finds its own truth
despite what others think it should be doing.
We might be surprised on that day
to find this Presence, this enduring beauty and strength,
has been here all along, seated right here among us
in the radiant heart and sturdy hands of this Horse Woman.
It could happen like this.
For Lisa, a poem by Dan Holden
They arrived just as morning sun broke the thin layer
Of green and pink clouds on the horizon.
Hidden in plain sight and tucked away
In the gnarled tree line nearly invisible
Until they moved.
Two young deer out for breakfast
Walking one in front of the other
Slowly and quietly testing with each step
Whether the way was safe.
Like strange and beautiful creatures emerging
From another world, they step only for a moment
Into ours before receding back into their own.
A third deer strode to the edge of the tree line.
Stronger, more powerful and graceful than the others,
She was magnificent, fearless, confident in her safety
Yet hard to see, standing firm now like a tree.
Her face shined like cool moonlight coming from within
As if shaped by winds and rivers and a wildness very old.
She watched the others but did not join, unmoved
And marvelously calm, present.
Sometimes, if we are fortunate,
The one we think we are gives way to the one we want to be
While a third — who we actually are — stands serenely by
Not waiting but allowing, neither forcing herself
Nor resisting, but letting the gravity of her beauty and grace
Be enough.
I would not have known enough to look for her
Let alone recognize her
Had I not known you, in whom and through whom
She first appeared.
A poem for young people by Dan Holden
