Waiting to Be Known

This poem came out of Art Speaks on Sept 5. I wrote from an art banner quote, and it became a poem about hope—without ever using the word. Does that come through? See the photo

Waiting to Be Known

       Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known. – Carl Sagen 

These days, something incredible
waits in the corner,
fluffed and feathered.

I feel it
through the deep inhale
and the longer exhale
of a single breath
that moves beyond fear,
shedding that tightness
at the heart of my being.

It’s there
in the pastel promise
just before the sun
lifts up a fresh day,
in spite of yesterday.

I see it in the goldfinch
that clings to the zinnia,
feeding on seeds,
preparing to migrate
to a place of arrival
and survival.

I smell it in the rain
that returns life
to wilting marigolds
where bees nuzzle nectar dust.

It’s that one big fuzzy bee
pollen-drunk
in the center
of a fuchsia cosmos
in honey-scented dreams.  

 And yes, it still perches
in the quiet of me, 
never having stopped at all,
only waiting – to be known.

REVISION
Waiting to Be Known

      Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known. – Carl Sagen 

These days, something incredible

waits in the corner,

fluffed and feathered.

I feel it

in the deep inhale
and the longer exhale

of a single breath

that moves beyond fear,

shedding that tightness

at the heart of my being.

It’s there

in the pastel promise

just before the sun

lifts up a fresh day,

in spite of yesterday.

I see it in the goldfinch

that clings to the zinnia,

feeding on seeds,

preparing to migrate

to a place of arrival
and survival.

I smell it in the rain

that returns life

to wilting marigolds

where bees nuzzle nectar dust.

I hear it in
that one big fuzzy bee,

pollen-drunk

at the center

of a fuchsia cosmos,

that drifts in honey-scented dreams.  

And, yes, it still perches

in the quiet of me, 

never having stopped at all.