Initiation: A Poem

I wrote this poem after days of trying to disect Stafford's poem "Believer" (The Way It Is 112-113). I don't know if I've come any closer to cracking the poem, but I've given it this try.


Initiation

When you are lost on the open road
and you still see everyone for miles,
who chooses to step forward
      and say, "Listen..."?

If magnetism confuses its poles
how does attraction spark fresh from the world,
pulling all of us in ways, through force, toward iron?

All of us need, not magnets in our pockets,
but empty, wide spaces
where the gift of vision, knowing who we are,
                    waves as it pushes past.
Our response is to say its name.