Peace like winds in the bull pines pointing at the coast
blows through as if I am not there, go west.
As far as the east is from the west, this runs together.
I look toward Japan. I feel the earthquakes of the future.
I rest my head in my hands and listen for whale voices
crossing the surf. I listen for small voices gulling in sky.
Only the hiss of surf, wind, breath alone on the outcrop. I
was not supposed to go beyond this point.
I am beyond the frontiers, beyond the mountains, beyond
the gold, beyond the fault lines and I could break off any
moment and head to where west turns east and my
transgressions will move high as
heaven above earth and peace winds around me as I
mix with the dust and stop fearing the quakes.
I move farther than the prairies, the peaks, the rushes,
farther than the points beyond and I set my breakage
on this outcropping and enter the circle spinning around
the world fearing mercy and the psalms of whales.
Yvonne B. Robery has a BA from Wheaton College, Wheaton, Illinois and an MA from Northwestern University, Evanston, Illinois. She has published poetry in various small presses including the Hiram Review, The Cresset, and the Christian Century. She works for the federal government.