Wisdom’s Poem

J. and the kids helped me edit the villanelle and that sparked a fit of creativity.  S. wrote this and I told her I would put it on the blog, so here it is–

I hurt, I cry

I cry

People ask me why

I say I

hurt in every way

today

and tomorrow

I have sorrow.

ain’t no thomas ain’t no plath

What if I could trace your face across a sea?

It’s lines so fine its depth so dark

I would have to call you back to me

Through a door unlocked with single key

contrasting light and following arc

 You grasp my arm I am no longer me

A prison, a cell, a flush of birds set free

A wild wind of night, boats embark

Upon a perilous, knifing sea

You call across the wide abyss to me

I follow your voice to its pectoral mark

a baying wolf beneath a savaged tree

A man will die alone in agony

before the sentinel hark

Of moan and groan, solitary monotony

In the end we see, we see

A whip, a wail, torn face through dark

all that was meant to be

All this done, all done, for me.

You and I know

but You more than I…

(that whole omiscience thing)

that I thought it would be cool

to write You into a novel

respectfully asserting that You would remain

nonfiction, as per usual

but in Your usual ironic fashion

You wrote me into Your story

making me nonfiction instead.

 

I am surprised when people depict You

with eyes

or old man nice

really?  I think, trying hard not to laugh

it would be like calling an earthquake a rocking chair

or a hurricane a light breeze–

stick drawing the Infinite

failing to see

the real You

shocks me

because You are always there.

 

people talk about religion

and i think, who cares about religion?

It is You, always You

lighting up the sky

 

I know You do not mind when I talk familiar to you

but I know Who you are

and am in awe.

 

write me

into all of Your

stories

pleeeeaaaassseeee,

God