a gift that calls me

to see a person. . .

I do not know. . .

I cannot understand. . .

I can ride a power

over which I have only a touch of control,

and somehow, 

through a gift of vision that can sometimes scare me,

mists can clear

and I can see a person, close to the truth of self,

and I can sometimes find words 

that roughly build toward what I see,

I seem to get a person best

when persona and self are in harmony,

and that beautiful person behind the eyes

allows himself, herself to be seen.

by Henry H. Walker

November 11, ’13