4.4
A lovely campus
and where is God
to whose glory it was begun
Have we bartered for
a tower of Babel instead.
Learned children,
do they learn of you
or only of their own creation
and leave behind your sense
of other.
We raise them up to go out
and grow, but not out of you.
Our prayer is that their hearts
are formed, that what they know
will not be lost. Please let it be.
——————-
4.3
spring getting ready on the highways
you can see it in the row upon row
of loamy, darkness siding the chum.
truckers glance from their gears
to notice real life outside the
sterilized environs of their cabs.
we listen to celtic seances on the CD
and watch tommie’s red gps line unscroll
on the dash, but undeniably, out the window,
palpable earth and aroma are responding
to a different accelerator. Spring getting ready
along the highways, even without us.
———————
4.2
Train line end, four miles past. Mud road
flat, so flat forever, wind blowing hard
like damnation coming across plains
rather than welcome. But it was to be
home. Work the land five year, and it
is yours.
Immigrant hands. Father, sons, mother,
daughters. seven all with naught but
bundles and a czech language between.
Some halting deutsch to make connection
in the new world, northern end of line, November.
Blue, gray, damping cloud sweeping from west,
snow to begin, and none but flat, flat, alone and
none to die. Not here. Not so far from anything.
Off northeast, a copse, a coulee. the only dip
for anywhere to horizon. Running now, the men,
the boys… to drop down below the rim.. a protect if
only from the bite, for the moment.
They dug that mud in the coulee wall, carved it out
to form a cave depression that would later be braced
by the wood from the copse. But at first simply saved
by the hardness of the frozen circumference —
Oh Lord, welcome to America, welcome home
to a place where souls survived and made a life
from hearts and desperation and wanting, in the
coulee.
————-
4.1.
Friend at the store, we share changes,
his white hair smoothed back, wisdom
in his eyes and smile. His wife died not
too long since, and we met at first only
as customers/customee but simple
conversation and sharing of stories have
made us nodding friends, fellow
good guys on the track of life.
At a certain point you find that your smile
is genuine, not put on or putting off, but
unconscious reaction to a son/daughter
of Adam who has come through their years
with grace still attached.
Survivors in gentleness. The meek who inherit
what life really has to offer: caring hearts,
connection, the warmth of honesty, of decency.
Of such is the kingdom of heaven. Of such does
the glint of a smile steal across my face at
their thought.
Because nice matters…
——————————
3.31
I think Lent is over, she said
and so I gave her chocolate with
oranges in it, and went and raised
a bourbon glass in toast.The Lord
is risen, the Lord is risen indeed.
I hope it will be this way on the final
rising morn when with thou beside me
we suddenly realize that the
Lent is over and the feast begun
in the simplest gifts of life.
———————————–
3.30
The mother raccoon bites the head of
her cub with no eyes. The demand
of evolution, to kill the weakest, strange,
deformed, so that the fittest survive.
The different child at school picked upon almost
— we hope only — unto death
attacked by the same brutal Darwinian code
bred within us.
And then we wonder why the eyes of faith speak
above it. Grace is needed.
———————-
3.29
good Friday drive
thank you Lord for
bringing us home alive.
Good Friday drive
thank you Lord
for bringing us Home.
Alive…
———————-
3.28
The dog whimpers when he sees
another dog. He so wants to connect
to sniff, nose to nose, to raise a leg
and leave his scent
in the magic tradition of his kind.
I just long from afar. Keening inside
not daring to raise my head lest
my heart show, and then I be found out
Perhaps I could leave a scent
but would anyone know how to decode it
The magic of my kind is to hide our
lights. Lest others know of our heart’s
desires, and by them gain power over
us. We’d rather starve than let them know.
———————
3.27
Francisco, patron of humility
saving grace for souls
like mine
that reach too far and
then pull back in
fear
of mortality, of knowledge
learned too soon
of death’s
seduction, of flight
desired, yet
hindered.
humility’s lessons free
us to fly as we truly
can
calming the soul
to trust
in God’s hand.
————————
3.26
Stress. Good stress. But it’s all
stress. My body feeling the shake
tremor, inner squeech. Mind racing
in anticipation, when resolution
is not yet really in the cards.
Breathe two, three, four. Deep
cleansing breath now. Close
the eyes. In through the nose
out through the mouth. Slow
exhale.
Where did we learn these things
to “trick the body” as LBJ said
when he put on his “jammies”
for his mid-day nap.
So I will sit in my big green chair.
And open a book and close my eyes.
And breathe two, three, four….
DAMNN…two,
three, four…
———————–
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