Come down, drenched, at the end of May.

With the cold rain so far into your bones

that nothing will warm you

except your own walking

and let the sun come out at the day’s end

by Slievenaglasha with the rainbows doubling

over Molloch Mor and see your clothes

steaming in the bright air. Be a provenance

of something gathered, a summation of

previous intuitions, let your vulnerabilities

walking on the cracked, sliding limestone,

be this time, not a weaknesss, but a faculty

for understanding what’s about

to happen. Stand above the Seven Streams,

letting the deep down current surface

around you, then branch and branch

as they do, back into the mountain,

and as if you were able for that flow,

say the few necessary words

and walk on, broader and cleansed

for having imagined.

-David Whyte