A few months ago, as part of a Poetry Party on one of my favorite websites, www.abbeyofthearts.com, I submitted a poem entitled Look now, the blessed road. The theme? In praise of detours. It was received well enough that I thought of adding the yin to that yang. This latest poem illustrates the other part of our spiritual journey, that part full of dark uncertainty, ambiguity, doubt and even pain. Not as much fun to write about but necessary all the same…

Where footsteps once fell, proud and sure,

and met solid pavement with unwavering courage,

now there creeps, under guise of night

a pall, a weary and whimsical word of doubt.

The core of dreams once held aloft to sun-drenched hope

now hide, tucked in folds of fabric and crevice of stone.

Shiver and should, wither and would, careless and could;

the words of humbled discontent and self-abasement

foretell a morning not here, but night so stubborn.

Were it not for the taste of dust

one might mistake white for black, black for naught.

Sharp the shame of whispered this and promised that

when time stood still to salute my place.

Go, for now is not the time for talk or even willful gestures

betokening peace or grace or surety.

Let me drink from the bitter pond if only

to remember the taste of freedom.

Look away, don’t pretend that this one knows

or feels or sees as one should.

No, pray to the silent god, forgotten shadow of something greater.

But for all this, I can see someone lurking,

waiting, longing…for what, I do not know.

So then, here I will sit and wait for this well-known stranger

to, once again,

emerge.

June 21, 2012