From my archives

I wrote the following on 4 March 1992, remembering a significant occasion in 1967.

25 Years

A silver anniversary of learning

How tarnished and fragile and vacant,

In lieu of empty, E. was ... and

Didn't know she was until

4 March 1967

When the world as she was sure it was

Crashed

Brought down by a quiet telling

Fait accompli

Brought down

A paper mache life--no, more substance than that, but

No basement--bricks perhaps but on sand ... and

Razed so even the sand showed no marking of

E's residence there.

E's no longer at that addresses. Her home is

Smaller and in a tellingly obscure neighborhood

Compared to halcyon sand dunes

Carved instead into rock

Baring that for base

Using the carved stones

For walls, the roof still

Open to the elements

Habitable enough

And growingly grateful as

The Creator of the world is recreating E., and

E.'s world, reality, rock, solidly His.