One step further felt a step too far
past destination sign miles behind—
how long did shepherds trudge in winter
between announcement and touching divine,
or did it feel before the unfolding womb,
like flowers blooming into blood-red figs,
emptied out, waiting room or nascent tomb?—
yet, I was nowhere, as if transfixed
in Challenger Deep, but to plunge forward,
stabbing fears like unseen hedges surround,
though assured I’ve not stumbled on corpses
and one man has lived to tell what he’s found.
When at last I saw the familiar path,
every iota of my flesh leapt and laughed.