The Backward Glance

Is it any wonder

That so many times

I wander back and

Stroke and polish that old stone?

Rust brown, softened edges

The tread worn through the surface

To the heart of all that

Time and time again

And time is really what 

It’s all about

Unless we lay it out 

as space - - -

And glance beyond that

Cresting, dancing hill

And then the next

I’ll go there, I’ll look 

To that and beyond

To horizon’s crimson core

But always, always and forever more 

I too, sister

Will pause, and turn and look behind

Like Lot’s heart-hardened, white-faced wife

Like Orpheus and his fading better half

And like that other nameless, wordless one

Who, barely human,

Took the time to pause, to turn and 

Then look back*

Arrested by the same wild hope

That looking might 

Just make it not be so

And time, like space,

Became a breath held back 

And not let go.

* Mary Leakey describes the trail of footprints left in volcanic ash and tuffa 3.6 million years ago in Northern Tanzania. The prints, almost 90 feet of them, were likely those of a man, woman and child. The speculation goes that it was the woman who paused, turned left, and looked back before continuing on. 
(Source: Annie Dillard, For the Time Being, 1999, page 157.)