the true light


Where are these times,

these moments so in the clutch

of nomads: history and faith

and dark matter?

Where are we now, our souls

I mean, when we lay down

at night, flying between stars

and dust?

Who has taken us, is taking us,

through this murky

looking glass,

more deeply into our present,

more deeply into our wondering,

and deeper still into our darkened selves?

(More glorious than we can admit.)

Can we stand?

Can we stand it,

stand this hope in truth and love

and mercy?

Can we hope that much?


What goes for understanding

on this outer crust?

The trees bare their leaves,

the flowers open,

the robins sit nervously

on the fence rail,

the park is full of children,

the machines make machines.

What is our shape, our color,

our wishful thinking?

I wonder.

I wonder about these things

like a stone cracks another.

Hulking shoulders or

straining sinews

cannot pull down my wondering.

And I take in the news,

which burns like paper

and disappears like vapor,

so that I might know.

I know so much less,

I know.


I think about my my children’s future


Blood flows in the streets,

under the rubble,

into the sand.

Limbs go missing like

a favorite song that cannot

be remembered.

Only my children do not yet

know the song.

I hope they never know.

I hope they understand.

I think about my loved ones

who live in me.

Fire can rain down,

chariots can crush,

deceit can harness the darkness,

but I have seen a ghost,

like the wind in the trees.

I pray for my loved ones.

I pray about the future

when I think about today.

And this is the true light:

Love the poor,

Love the weak,

Love the hopeless,

Love the dying,

Love the orphan,

Love the homeless,

Love the widow,

Love your brother,

Love your enemy,

Love the other.

(June, 2008)


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