I cannot say
If it was the leaving
Or the arriving
Which was more unsettling.
Leaving:
With all its uncertainty
Abandoning the familiar,
The known,
The almost predictable
for a search
with no assurance
of arrival.
Arriving:
Now there
Is the real mystery.
In the mundane
A majesty:
In the poverty
Real riches:
And knowing
From this one moment
Of real encounter
That I can never
Be the same again.
Poem by Jeannie Kendall, reproduced with permission