Engaging the Life of the Soul
this wind on our cheeks, the scent of lilies
mingles; we’ve come to visit
remember what was and might have been;
our love of heaven
expressed in simple ways
to hear her voice clothed again
with skin, the same as ours when
we all had things to say
that mattered (and didn’t_)
when we laughed
at ease
when death wasn’t scary
or real
was there such a time—when we laughed, mingled
To read a poem
take off your shoes,
loosen your tie and put down your watch,
prop up something soft in the small of your back
because poetry
is an intimation of a suggestion
about a potentiality
that may or may not exist
for you—
something dangerous, so you want
to be comfortable
there is a fruit that drops easily into my hand, the freedom of the fall
that comes with speaking truth: naming the thing for what it is;
believing what I see, trusting what I know
not second guessing
taste: this is freedom, God says
to climb higher than I’d like, to take courage, to follow this heart
with its fist-sized, complicated machinations
leading me deeper into the secrets
of an orchard
flesh and blood, we seek to fill the gap, find
solace; immerse in endless streams
to console, mitigate the feeling
we might be alone, or worse not alone
and have nothing to say worth saying,
too little to offer—
do we know, as we are we matter?
that God himself became
flesh and blood
our solace and endless stream
when the sun shines on a hawk on the post
go ahead, reach out
and stroke it
the fear of its turn: sudden death
do not let it frighten you,
my friend
it is the culmination of a soul gathered in,
shining out, over the din
of heaven
when the sun shines on a hawk on the post
go ahead, reach out
and stroke it