We saw you that time, at the Sondheim,
do you remember?
The thunderous applause
as you entered
then the hush as you
began to speak -
we gazed
wondering what you really are.
We wonder
but without manic hysteria -
there is no screaming surge,
no clamour that desires
it knows not what.
Do we see something unearthly
perhaps?
A gift so astonishing
we are just grateful to have known you
from a distance.
And how could we not call you treasure?
Why would we not claim you as our own
while we may?
Heather Williamson
Poetry on roots, love, life and faith

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