Who knew?
The feast of Stephen
was a day
and not a place
where king and page trod
seeking yonder peasant.
That Christmas,
snuggled on the floor
beneath the carefully icicled tree,
listening to carolers
at the front door,
(wrapped in my mother's white chenille bedspread
-- the one we always used when we were sick --
my thumb worrying the special corner hole)
I closed my five year old eyes,
scanned my own snowy fields
of memory,
seeking my brother
of the same name
who had entered a hospital
and not returned.
I imagined a field being named for him,
my footsteps
walking in the dinted snow
where his had been,
seeking someone
even sadder
and more alone
than I.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
The Siren of Sophia
You turn us toward
all things
seen and unseen,
call us from
coals
into fire.
We dance
in the heat
of Your passion,
find consummate rest
in Your flame.
all things
seen and unseen,
call us from
coals
into fire.
We dance
in the heat
of Your passion,
find consummate rest
in Your flame.
Turning toward Jerusalem
What else is there
but to follow
the path
into the thick of it,
overhanging branches
twisted over and into
each other,
fireflies dancing
at the periphery,
mosquitoes snacking,
out of nowhere
deer hooves
drumming
through the undergrowth;
we neither give in
nor avoid
the fear,
we call to the caution,
move through the
rising panic,
enter deeper into darkness:
neither knowing
light will follow
nor being certain
it won't.
but to follow
the path
into the thick of it,
overhanging branches
twisted over and into
each other,
fireflies dancing
at the periphery,
mosquitoes snacking,
out of nowhere
deer hooves
drumming
through the undergrowth;
we neither give in
nor avoid
the fear,
we call to the caution,
move through the
rising panic,
enter deeper into darkness:
neither knowing
light will follow
nor being certain
it won't.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
on avoiding misapprehension
Mist suggests
the torrent's return
through felt sense shivers
lacy fog in the forests
blanketing the island
across the sound.
I submerged myself in the bathtub
emerged with a clogged ear.
How alike these things:
muted
not yet revealed
calling for choice
at the threshold:
panic or surrender.
the torrent's return
through felt sense shivers
lacy fog in the forests
blanketing the island
across the sound.
I submerged myself in the bathtub
emerged with a clogged ear.
How alike these things:
muted
not yet revealed
calling for choice
at the threshold:
panic or surrender.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
waterways
In our youth
we used to drink
from clear streams,
dipped our hands
cupped and receptive
into the running rivers
no thought to illness
decay
organisms that destroy
now you dream of them again
untamed waters
racing toward the open ocean
you bring them to your light
open your heart to their mercy
relive your youth
we used to drink
from clear streams,
dipped our hands
cupped and receptive
into the running rivers
no thought to illness
decay
organisms that destroy
now you dream of them again
untamed waters
racing toward the open ocean
you bring them to your light
open your heart to their mercy
relive your youth
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