
One hundred steps to the center of the labyrinth,
and light enters the world as gently
as the pilgrim making her way to the center.
Can you tell the moment when the foxtail
takes shape out of the night
and the pine needles assume their points?
In the pause between
breathing out
and breathing in,
the last star fades into the brightening sky,
gone to the place you journey in your sleep.
I watch my thoughts dart off
like a startled flock of sparrows
in twenty directions.
I have written ten thousand words
that don’t mean a thing.
Now the solstice calls me to the labyrinth,
and my feet long for the one hundred steps.
Published by
Mary Camille Thomas
Mary Camille Thomas is a native of Santa Cruz who is grateful to make her home on the California coast once more after living internationally and on the road. She studied comparative literature at UC Davis and received a master’s degree in library science from UCLA, which gave her a way to earn a living while making a life among books. Her poetry and essays have appeared in the Monk in the World Guest Post Series, Moving Force Journal, Presence, Porter Gulch Review, Second Wind, Sisters Singing, and The New Story, and she has completed a novel called What Lies Buried about a man reckoning with his family’s Nazi past.
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This is so beautiful and such a call to serenity. It is perfect for this time as we turn inward. Thank you for your beautiful words.
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Thanks again, Mary, for your thoughts in this time of dire beauty.
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Yes, a time of dire beauty.
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Always wonderful reading
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