Prairie View

it looks like a prairie to view

out in front of my eyes

and though by the particulars

addressing me

well it is and also is not

but for my eyes

and their looking out

behind all the naming

that could be said

there is so much richness

yet really

no reason to name it

it is truly like grandness

for a prairie

all these givens

yet left unsaid

because for me

it is not so much

the looking out

from here into this vista

that embraces my sight

it is what is in me

behind that looking out

with all those stanchions

as givens

for they give me

such visual focus as a cover

in case of need

for an conversant response

but in the deep privacy

of behind my eyes

for what is really seen

there is quite another sight

less filled with particulars

is this other sightedness

more a basking mood

to wade through

and a reflective focus

encouraged through it

more emotionally charged

within and around

as clandestine figures

that abide come into sight

they of themselves

speak for themselves directly

I find myself

less on the stage of self

with depiction

and more invisible

and in likeness

to what is said

as if sitting at a nearby table

with them conversing

there

it is as if they do not know

I am listening

for they speak about me

directly in surmise

not so heavy

on the imposition of judgment

nor much towards concurring

with each other

yet they say things nonchalantly

that surprise me

as if they were truly independents

yet of me and withheld

back into their silence

as to what I do

and think and say as me

I don’t ever hear them

as directly present

they are not voices of intervention

from within

for what I do

as my person in the world

but at times like these

these rare times

their conversing

is as rich for me

as the heat breath

of a crackling fire before me

and the ears of these my eyes

are invisibly right before them

facing impressions

that lay me down

into far memory

they speak of the gamut

of my life autobiographically

they infer a background

I sometimes vaguely recall

and a backstory

I should have already figured

as mine

and as I listen my self

as sensing gets much larger

somehow this is a nurturance

of pervading calm

I can almost get to

the “why me” precipice

but yet I do not feel so alone

to call it out that way

it is more so that I am filled

with gratefulness

not so much for what is said

and what is heard

but that there is this place

so privy to my care

I do not know how to hold it

that it holds me

there is afterglow

that this has happened

somehow I yearn

and return again and again

and a prairie view

much like you

or I could easily see

seems to be of sentinels

allowing me my entry . . .