of great gentleness

gentleness gentleness
Fallen from the sky
In evening, dawn,
In night.
It is a lasting light that sets purest
Beauty: always felt
Though never always seen.

What greatest part of man
Lost gained
In her creation — first poem
Written — which needs be
For the sake
Of a fulfilled hole
In the head in the soul.

A gentleness calling me
To find home,
Not a place but a face to
Grace my every dream of home.

A face I find in the
Motions you give
To me — my becalming ways — by
The comforting gestures
As simple as a smile
A glance, a wave of the hand
(The weight at which these stand
To dent the densest man),
Or out of my perched name
Sinking itself
In your speech; where each
Syllable, lasting longer
Than the name
Itself,
Finds warmth in the

Rising flames of your inflections.

Or
A movement left in

Constant refrain
When
From the distance
I saw your hand on a girl’s
Somber shoulder, such a stare
In your eyes – the placement
Of your care – that never
Wavered with the air,
And then and there
I was stilled,
Smothered with the will you breathed.

For what greater
Gentleness approaching like a
Haunting ghost
Seeks after greater
Thought of what I need
What I ought
To see:
It is you It is you.