Half understood

These lace bobbins came down through my family, but I don't know whose they were

or where they came from. There are names and dates. Some are beautifully carved.

I don't think I'll ever know.

Half understood

I know that lights switch on and off,

that brushes sweep, that water mostly comes from taps.

I know a bit about the whys and hows.

I know the surfaces, the functions:

computers and the washing machine,

the pencils and the paper.

Now here’s the edge of understanding,

the challenge to discover,

the steps towards what’s un-known and un-named.

Half-understood lives at this edge.

The ground’s rocky and the feet unsteady.

There’s light and shade, movement, sounds, swirling.

We can hear the trees grow, the stones wear away,

if we listen well and deep enough.

There may be no return.

I know a part of what’s less known,

but risks and edges bring new joy

in what we find there when we dare.