Beheld

Today, I hold the woman who bore me
and watch two sacred birds:
a mating pair of Knysna Louries,
all blue and green and bright-flash-of-red
from beneath spread wings as they work
their way between the milkwoods.

What more is there
than this?

Many worlds gone mad
and me, lost in an ordinary moment.

If you can surrender to the story,
it’ll write you and show
what’s true in a way
I cannot imagine.

Just be there by the beach and
behold.

Be held.

This is the only way to describe
an empty sky,
or what the underside of flight
really feels like
when the louries leap from branch
to holy branch.