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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460635" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>0164In Mind</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It’s only now, only now, that I remember, that I can see, <br>how you made your presence felt so often; <br>so long unlooked for, seeing only absence, never believing presence; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">for in the subtlety of your wisdom, the wisdom of your subtlety, <br>you leave reminders of that presence in that secret place<br>where it’s as safe as childhood happiness<br>forgotten, then remembered…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">for you speak a closer language to a child, <br>closer than the growing child comes to believe.<br>When was the first time - now I can remember who you are, <br>when you first spoke to me? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wasn’t it that day when I could toddle unsteadily<br>but with wide open eyes, where the lion’s head<br>poured water from its mouth into the basin? <br>and in the paving of the bricks – which anyone could see –<br>you left me that private, secret message, <br>knowing that I’d not notice, (so I’d not forget) , <br>until one day it swam out of memory? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For this is your so secret, open generosity: you leave every one of us<br>this secret message: that moment when we knew<br>that we knew something certain – and yet, <br>did not know what that something was? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And then, that time after a year or two – a lifetime for a child –<br>when you announced your presence by your so painful absence, <br>and I made that solemn decision for a four-year-old, <br>never to trust a grown-up ever again; not because<br>of being a helpless child – but because there was that in me<br>which knew when you were there, and when you weren’t? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then you left so many messages I did not need to heed <br>-or so it seemed, because they were so obvious –<br>and only in your absence was your presence felt: <br>the day after a gale, the ozone of the beach, the sea<br>now brown but calming, seaweed salty on the stones; <br>the field of flowers and dewdrops –the moths in ecstasy; <br>and in that silent glade of woodland, as if you had made that space<br>between the trees, to leave a message loud and clear: that<br>you live in space, so visibly invisible…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">then later, on the tennis court, green grass just newly cut, <br>that exhilarating smell; lime-white lines just newly marked; <br>and when the ball hit the centre of the racquet, just so, <br>I missed your message, in the will to win…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And then, grown up: how are we to know – until we know –<br>your messages left all around, in so many places, all so different? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When, like the unicorn, we know we’ll never see you, <br>yet know we know that in our minds, you live? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">That single horn upon its clear-eyed brow, <br>that dips in recognition of innocence, <br>how could we miss your message, so gently elegant, <br>one-pointed image of yourself, in mind?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Michael+Shepherd">Michael Shepherd</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460635" data-title="0164In Mind de Michael Shepherd" data-description="It’s only now, only now, that I remember, that I can see, 
how you made your presence felt so often; 
so long unlooked for, seeing only absence, never believing presence; 

for in the subtlety of your wisdom, the wisdom of your subtlety, 
you le..."></div>
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