Flight
A clear night
a boy is kneeling in the candle glow.
Behind
a starry crown is shining on the wall.
I see
it is a weightless place.
…
Twelve stars
light up the city church.
The boy
his mouth a little “o,” the small the songful face.
I am shamed
to think I sing the note.
…
A bird
flies in an open door.
No one
looks around to see a feather drop from high.
I gasp
aloud and in the dark, all chaos in the air.
—
You are the beat of the tambourine on a winter’s day.
You are the fleck of inspiration in the potter’s clay.
You are the song that makes me happy on a day that makes me sad.
You are the kindest word I ever spoke, the purest love I ever had.
—
All the saints have forgotten how to pray.
Their hands are folded in expectation.
There is so much goodness they wish to say—
But only silence, their consolation.
—
O gracious God, I shudder in the cold rooms
Where I’ve been sleeping, as the child
Who finds that sleep prolongs her dearest dreams;
And on the flow’rd wall I keep me staring,
For want of light or cheer or caring
Trifles anymore – the little bones
Behind my cheek are pressed against the pillow,
Waiting now a slumbrous breath,
And the faith I should be keeping.
—
Peace in your soul when the wind blows round
Silence that lifts you without making a sound
Love that enfolds you in the warmth of the night—
Grace that adorns you with beauty and light.
“beat of the tambourine”
🙂