And Then She Found Me

And at that age, poetry found me.

It was at that age, yes,

it was not a voice,

whispered into my ear,

nor was it a light, shining through my window

at night.

It was a woman, shouting from my sidewalk,

from where she came from I do not know,

from calm rivers or savage winters,

or the branches of the dark night awakened.

I saw her for the first time,

among the violent fires of my tender youth,

and there she was without a face.

Reaching out, and touching me.