Meditation:

The Veil Between

That is, they with their backs to us, they with their hands
holding nothing, no mirror to see by, no one good cure.
Us then ourselves with none of our ills in great measure
bettered - still straits desperate and perilously
narrow, births especially dubious, mice, moles, false
witness, the chills, trouble of foot, ruptures bodily and
spiritual, doubt, palpitations, storm, stiffness of neck,
of heart, overly troublesome birds in too great abundance,
death sudden or too slow, quarreling, swine both real and
only seeming to be so, bruises, losing what we want most
not to, mad dogs, luck that is bad, visual soreness, shame
and the hands - because of it - folded, likewise flood
and nowhere a raft to sail on. And they not sad, apparently,
and not particularly waving. And just the wind for a sound:
cold, hollow. Us calling it song or saying No, it is grace.