The Quiet of the Deep

gone is the mountain

gone are the trees

and the sun rising over the seven devils

gone are the deer

and the crisp air of a mountain valley

beneath my lies jagged asphalt

and my trek talks me along

a busy road

flanked by tired and tattered businesses

mobile homes

sitting not quite level on concrete blocks

and small sagging houses

guarded by ancient and rusted pickups

still the rhythm is the same

still I walk

left foot, right foot

still I breathe and go deep

and find and touch the quiet warmth of the sacred Presence

this day I am reminded of a time so many years ago

when violence tore apart the towers

and tore apart lives

and tore apart a nation

and in that calm place I ache

for the violence returned

and the violence perpetuated

we have not won with our military might

with our planes and rockets and drones

we have lost, we all have lost

and yet

in that deep calm place

is quiet

a peace that 9/11 cannot destroy

a quiet that cannot be drowned out by passing trucks

a sense of richness that cannot be negated by the ragged world I walk through

beneath the roiling surface of the ocean

a wise person once said

is the quiet of the deep

within us too

is that deep and quiet place

where we greet the sacred

face to face