Friday, July 07, 2006

And again of rain...

“I just want to hold you” --in the rain
, he spoke,
answering the hunger in her breast
for a tangible comfort.
She might have wept,
Was her ache a wound--
or emptiness, expectant to be filled?
a wound, and emptiness, for comfort
soothes and scathes.
She might have wept.

Tell her it will be for life.
Tell her life will be long.
Tell her she won’t die
, and you won’t die,
Tell her she’ll see you again,
feel you again, someday
Tell her it is not
to be touched by love.
Tell her she will be made right.

She might
--she might--

“I just want to hold you...”
--she might have wept--
“...for a while.”
Tell her it will be for life.

Of rain...

I care, I trust, I learn
To take a part, to act the play.
I dare, I must, I burn
To make a portrait of that day.

An oil leak on tainted ice
No purity to smear
Repeated once, repeated twice
In water and in tear
The sky is falling
And nothing cleansed
A life is draining
And no one gains
As tears, that, streaming,
Relieve no pains

Forgotten in a vale become
A landfill of my days
Is promised rest, is promised home
Is crucifixion grace
A hope is falling
O Savior save
A life is dying
Into a grave
And I am coming
To be Thy slave

My mouth is open as a tomb
I weep against the wall
Within the silence of my room
I wrestle with my fall
My breath is failing
I cannot speak
My heart is longing
My body weak
My mind splintering
And I will break

Go on. It’s finished. Chosen course.
Exist as you see fit.
Moveless--I’m moveless, cannot force
Nor stir my heart to it.
My arms are sweeping
The dust in piles
Mindless measuring
My life in miles
Of mindless pacing
The bleach-washed tiles.

I’m spared--a storm, a brink
To break the cylinder of pain
I wear, I store, I drink,
I paint a plethora of rain.

By Wisdom Saved

Not silent. Silent, but heavy still
With weight of import and weight of will
And weight of sorrow and weight of care
And weight of nothing and of despair
And broken, broken, and now enough
Give me but courage and I shall love
So bleeds the fear through incision--slow,
Then leaves the heart in an overflow
Of grief that must find a language soon
Else it is buried alive, unknown
A worm corrupting, embittering
A blind farewell to a lovely thing
...Rain traces patterns in winding lanes
On hopeless faces and window panes
Pain traces patterns behind locked doors
Where music spins in her ears and pours
Finality, and a prayer is gone--
The tears walled in, and the mask put on...
A language, fingers and characters
A thought is his and a thought is hers
His, customary, to take the floor
Hers now to speak what she hid before
Trust. Should this step give beneath her feet
It is no less grave, but a grave more sweet.
Now finished, finished-- a peace revives
As scattered fragments of separate lives
Fall in together, a bridge between
A startled faith in the unforeseen
Bound and unblinded, or blind enslaved--
By pleasure threatened, by wisdom saved.