The Guest

What I want is to see your face in a tree, in the sun coming out  -- Rumi

A mysterious guest has come
and gone on a breath.
His footprint, beauty.

The elusive guest comes 
when the wind gets lost,
when longing 
finds itself enough.
When the table is spread 
with fresh surrender
on clean, white hopelessness.

When he comes, 
thought flows like a river.
Dawn forgets to break. 
When he stays, answers seek questions.

In a house arrayed in emptiness,
an axis spins from earth to sky.
In a house full of earth
a beautiful one can come and go.

He left a note in a flower 
yearning for its own fragrance.
I mailed my reply to the ocean.

© Rachel Dacus

from Earth Lessons, Bellowing Ark Press, 1998