Spirit Meets Flesh
You step into this stream too cold
For spirit and call out
But too late you've entered a
World of too bright - too dark
Images, close your eyes, you
Begin. Cry and dry hands place you
The scratch of starched linen
And you are alone, your protests
You'll be forty before you understand
How this first cry still vibrates.
Only then will you laugh and
Laugh, child, loving the play of shadows,
This feel of gravel under feet.