There was an error in this gadget

10 July 2010

the tree of knowledge

When you are lost to yourself, angels pass through you.

These words were the nicest collection of letters ever sent to me, about me, a gift in grief.   I remember the moment, the words so close to the actual experience, epiphany.
The irony, the man who comforted me,  I've never met, in another hemisphere, on another continent.  Once I heard his voice in a cordial and broken greeting; I'm known vicariously, through her.  
She knows my vulnerability, maybe more than me.  She is my sculptor, and I reject her now and then, my stubbornness.  At times, she moves on to more beautiful things, but I know there is no such thing.  Together she and I have seen the mystery.  So clearly, that he is able to say it best.
More than this symbolic knowing, that moment.  I want that back.  I crave that omniscience; that garden of eden sin is mine.

No comments:

Post a Comment