Poem: returning, unleaving

betwixt and between –

that is where I have been,

between the always returning

and the heart that anchored

as it cleaved;

 

love

oh love, have i always known you thus?

let it be, let it be

in this heart that bobs along the crest of

coming back, and yet

it never leaves;

oh please, let it be still and calm between

those sturdy lovers arms

again.

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Poem: holy imperfection

 

love like a sacrament

poured rich from the vine;

but not to be giddy, tho giddy be fine –

and tenderness plays in the incense divine

but ground me

hold firmly, sweet blood of the vine;

 

that dough that was kneaded

with prayers of great pleading;

come love give my bones

muscles not slack – oh rise, not dissemble,

 on that promise, I tremble

leave me not trembling, ’tis not faith I lack.

 

tho not wretch, but ragged

not much could I carry,

but that which I carry, I carry intact;

and paths may be varied,

with thee, they not scare me –

take I nervous breath, till they bring you back.

 

 

Poem: The Once-Me

I can still see the once-me,

at least from time to time;

the songs she used used to sing,

where voice and music rhymed –

the patterns of her movement,

the little rituals of time;

 

I want to keep that once-me

and the things that she could do;

and though she was afraid

her faith at least was always true –

she gave me that to keep,

and to share, with you.

The now-me, and the once-me

must go our separate ways;

I cannot have her back,

though my heart would have her stay –

(I confess the now-me trembles more,

than once-me would ever say)

perhaps that is a gift enough,

in its peculiar way.