I love you, gentlest of Ways,
who ripened us as we wrestled with you.

you, the great homesickness we could never shake off,
you, the forest that always surrounded us,

you, the song we sang in every silence,
you dark net threading through us,

on the day you made us you created yourself,
and we grew sturdy in your sunlight…

let your hand rest on the rim of heaven now and mutely bear the darkness we bring over you.

Rainer Maria Rilke, Book of Hours,  translation anita barrows and joanna macy