Friday, November 2, 2018

Slow Fall




Go now.  You
  say there's nothing for you here -
 
  but look - the black vault of sky,
  the still earth preparing, to hold
its
  breath, for a time.

Go now.
  You
  see - it's only a slow fall,
  revealing and baring
  their stark and lovely forms, to
  stand for a season,  
  unveiled.

Go now.
  You
  miss the iron rising,
  still and frosted over -
 
  stars spilled to earth, 
  alike for these days,
  in moonlight
.

Go now.
 
We
  are buttoned up, protected,
  and in wonder, 
  sparing little thought 
  for the day we must -  
  no doubt,
  go too.

Friday, July 6, 2018

For Neal



















Here is the book you never wrote.
Here are the secrets you couldn't suppress.
Here is the heart of what we needed to know.
Here is the song you never composed,
the poem in its infancy, tiny bones just unbending.

It's the joy a man has, you said - with joy! -  
even in a broken world.
The joy in coaxing music and grace from a thing once dead...
The joy in a simple life lived with purpose...
The joy in loving one so well and so long that love returned
staggers you.

Joy in faith.

Joy in the unknown.

Joy in beauty and truth and hope...
Even in sorrow and pain and doubt.

You, with your crooked smile - laughing at yourself, shrugging - said, 
I want to write about joy,
but I don't know how.

Oh my brother, your heart...

Your heart,
Your laugh,
Your song.

Your love, your mind, your faith, your great soul...

Oh my brother, your heart...

You are the book you never wrote.


Slow Fall

Go now.   You   say there's nothing for you here -     but look - the black vault of sky,   the still earth preparing, to hold...