To bring something out of nothing
I live in a world of magic
and drift above the shelved
kingdom of death
in an angry choppy sea.
O marvelous turn of events
haloed turtle nudging me up from the murky depths:
“take this rope and tie it around me
your thousand devotions
--but see, to drown
is to stand on God’s jeweled dance floor
hold my hand and breathe this joy”.
Among the Lilies
In the hermitage of words
grief was my familiar.
Birch trees lined the way
slender and white as morning
a few golden leaves fluttering down the overlook.
A shadow climbed the midnight wall
I held the violet flame.
My head wet with dew
I walked among persimmon trees
and saw so clear in black of night
bright light there
and found such grace
to enter the wounds of love among the lilies.
I saw an angel cast out of heaven
terrible face of grief
in slow decay
sitting in a chair at the Post Office.
My eyes want to gaze
kiss her sad broken face.
The trees have lost all sense of dignity without the wind
and the summer breeze has left the tangled bedsheets.
Now that the angel has lost sight
shadows tell lies and there is no good in the world.
Village of San Cassiano
for Peter Darlington
Cobblestone streets washed by gilding sun.
We climb the stairs, golden light spills
towards our home, below the face of the mountains.
Wakefulness holds form with dawn
today all the living want
to be at peace.
And the day begins to listen,
as the forest slowly reclaims the terraced earth.
The wild shepherd boy glides down the hill
drowsed and dreamed beneath flowering acacia trees, the sheep content.
Wood cutters pile up their stores for winter.
Gnarled cherry, walnut trees guard the cemetery gate.
I walk these ancient paths like a ghost this beautiful morning.
Think of the Christian settlers who replaced the Goddess Diana with the Cross,
with pain, lord of the church.
Peter tells me Diana’s prowess still linger behind the altar.
Pagan witches perform their rituals higher up
on the mountain.