Is there no end to hunger?
No hand to stay the twisting knife?
One fathom across,
but no bridge,
no man . . .
You shall be the bread,
and the rising freshness of its steam.
But you will not suffice
until the giver breaks you
five thousand times and more.
You shall be the blessing
the one that comes before they rip the bread:
a silent bowing head,
one moment more of giving thanks
even for this.
And you shall lay your spirit down
to bridge the unknown depth
one fathom more across,
out towards the misty ledge.
There you will enter,
by the hearts that enter over you.
Not by the world or by the searching mind;
but through this bread,
this blessing, and this breaking,
you will disappear
into the thoughtful fog of grace.
Phoebe Anthus finds her joy in quiet places, in the eyes of a child or simply in noticing little things. Her passion is to help create beauty out of the brokenness all around us.
Photography by Kenneth Godoy