. . . can realize it knows. . .

like a monk

I retreat to the mountains,
and I expect to lose myself in what they reveal,

instead, tendrils of my piedmont life
can reach from there to here,
and I must name them and deal with them,

like a monk freed from the burden
of the mundane immediacy of chores,
I find myself able to sort, to consider, to write,
so that I can know what that within me
can realize it knows.

by Henry Walker
March 2, ’12