There are certain faces before dawn,
far, far away, but I can only
make out the darkness. That scares me,
but something says, Don’t worry.
It’ll be over soon.
If I give up being afraid
I hope horses will come, white
horses with shiny eyes.
In the cities there are no more
horses, and no difference
between the fairies and the angels,
nor us either, except we don’t fly.
After three years the angels
return to the old country which they
left because it was tiresome,
silvery moon.
Wish I could see it. I got a funny
feeling I am going to be taken
deep inside the moon. Will it be gold?
Will there be green mountains
with trees and birds? Will I be
traveling the heavens forever?
- Marie Greenlee, 1983
In praise of
Willa & Marie have lived a long time and found where the treasure is, and they tell it for others, without evasion or fear.
Being so direct and wise requires the security of having lived, of having found a place of your own, a place to be what you are.
Back and forth [their] voices go. “I wonder if the mind and soul are the same,” Willa asks. From the heart, the mind, the soul, they speak. They help each other. And us.
- William Stafford