The Difficult Simplicity

The Difficult Simplicity of Certain Contemplations
     Tapping a tarot card with her dusky finger,
                             the woman tells me
sit with your emptiness,
   in time answers will come.
She says I know them all and only must remember.
My friend tells me I must decide what is enough,
                         then live with it.
Even my shiny-suited banker waxes wise, asks me
            if I think rich people are happier than I.
But always there's the knowledge
   of how all this will end.
                         In between
we try to love a life that's like a man who carnt commit-
              a little restless, always vague
when someone asks when are you going to....,
a life that's like the ragged, feral cat
                         mewling at the door,
insinuating with its cheek and hunger.
         We give it mercy or rough blame.
I'll tell you what love of this life is. It's looking up
         through trees newly bare of leaves
and seeing there the oldest road,
         a broken line of white stars
             stretching out across the sky.
It's thinking,
        this could almost be enough.


Elbe, Susan / Light made from nothing: poems

   (2003)