bridge to enchantment

once, when the voids visited
and threw our lives into disarray,

showed us by way of
delicate diagrams
(figures depicting arcane tensions)

how acanui is an unmoving pivot,
a weight that perpetually swings

frictionless, pendulous –

how she’s in the air when the palm fronds shiver,
when after a deluge, wet leaves lie on paths

how we can glimpse her on mountain saddles
near rocks black as her skin
and in the doorways of agalia –

we began, then, to seek glimpses –
to breathe her

like sharp mountain air,
know her as our true
bridge to enchantment