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