But perhaps God needs the longing, wherever else shall it dwell,
Which with kisses and tears and sighs fills mysterious spaces of air –
And perhaps is invisible soil from which roots of stars grow and swell –
And the radiant voice across fields of parting which calls to reunion there?
O my beloved, perhaps in the sky of longing worlds have been born of our love –
Just as our breathing, in and out, builds a cradle for life and death?
We are grains of sand, dark with farewell, lost in births’ secret treasure trove,
Around us already perhaps future moons, suns, and stars blaze in a fiery wreath.
~ Nelly Sachs ~
(Translated by Ruth and Matthew Mead, in Women in Praise of the Sacred
edited by Jane Hirshfield)
photo: taken in our churchyard’s garden