glow worms in the cave
deep in a limestone cave
where a river flows into it,
from outside where rain forest fecundity
drapes itself over the lush green world,
glow worms speckle the cathedral roof of the cave,
as if each is a star in the heavens,
constellations here that only exist
formless in our minds for a few minutes,
we move beneath them in a boat,
no photography permitted, no talking requested,
behind me in the boat, two visitors can’t contain themselves,
and whisper, my ears reach for the drip,
drop of water behind their scurrying whispers,
the drops more eloquent than anything they could be saying,
water takes a hundred years to add a cubic centimeter to a stalagtite,
how humbling to get it
that our words can have even less impact.
by Henry H. Walker
February 27, ’16
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