maria grech ganado

Wave State

For years I’ve stalked you.

Not consistently.

There were times I lost the trail -
or else some other tore my eyes away, because
I’ve always had a curious mind, preferring
to be the seeker than the prey.

It was your spores of light which sometimes played
in thickets or in clearings, on stone, through trees
which still distracted me, slipping from night to night
flitting in space, as if place and momentum
could be measured simultaneously
no matter what Heisenberg had claimed.

And yet, about uncertainty – well, he was right –
for even when I catch you moving, I’m moved too
to find out where I am, or who. My principles
grow watery, unsure. I become prey.

I wish you’d let me stalk you as before, controlling
my own time from spot to spot, stopping
to watch you sport as particle or wave – by turns,
not both at once, at once both wild and tame.

This tension is immense. Immeasurable.

I do not need it fathomed, or explained