To that place before words know
how to say themselves or
thoughts have an inkling how they will be born

to that quiet place where the holy dwells
that place before knowing,
witness before form

where tears canot stop---can find no
ending---and crying-out fills the sky

also to that place where the earth first
turns, and---turning---turns to bounty,
and we stumble upon hope

out of longing, out of love, you come.

--Nancy Shaffer