Then

When your matchless woes meet the seamless stretch of dusk,

and the last wisps of darkest night part for it,

and memory becomes hazy, less insistent upon its way;

when your thoughts creep out, undecided, but curious,

and venture out to something they don’t yet know

but from which they no longer hide;

when all those bruises, brought to ripeness

are more visible but less painful, and 

you begin to wonder why they’re there,

where they came from, their purpose;

when tides again rise and fall, taking out

the bad with the good, the sand with the treasure,

and your shores appear complex but not strange;

when clouds and sky appear unyielding but conciliatory

in their pronouncements, less wanton in demand,

and you remember your green from their grey;

when friends no longer squint or squirm or hide their

skeptical smirks, but raise a glass to your shared blemishes,

and arms link with stories told and mouths, made

joyful-heavy with wine sing wordless songs;

when all this combines to reveal what is

seeking you –

then.

 

 

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After the tomb

National Poetry Month is almost over! Today, I leave aside my daily Haiku to offer this one. A meditation of post-resurrection curiosity.

After the tomb

When blood, still damp, soaked through

the sleeves of shrug-shoulder’d men,

did you cry for their laughter?

 

Were your accusers held in sleep

when Mary’s shaking hands

held fast your plundered feet?

 

How long before bewildered men

and doting women find again

their reasons for remonstrance?

 

Will a miracle suffice

to fill the gaps in minds too young

not to lust for proof?

 

Were the angels surprised

to find their silenced songs

reignited for their fittest subject?

 

Did you know these walls would

only remind you of this one, unending breath?

This one effortless act for one so bored of death?

Some nights I find you

My daily offering for National Poetry Month is from a young colleague of mine, Anneliese Myers. She is a talented, up and coming poet and writer.

Anneliese.JPG
Anneliese Myers

Read. Read again. Like, share, the works!

___________________________

Some nights I find you

 

Some nights I find you

tucked into the corner

of a dream,

like you were something

so dear, that I put you

some safe place

where I might chance

upon you every so often

to love you and

to smile at you again.

Like the photograph

in my silver locket,

like the dog-eared page

in my favorite book.

Like that.