by E Therese
“We’re conscious of blossoming and withering both at once.” Rainer Marie Rilke
The rear view mirror holds
tiny strapped in sleeping faces
but we’ll be there soon
ahead, the field rises
in timing
with this cogent soundtrack
devotedly played
this week
observing the vigil
sorrow ascends out
of the speakers
charging on the canvas of this
field and sky
coupled – it may well be
my only Heaven
(sense of calm stroked before specks of undoing
pervade every other thought)
In becoming my grief
I rise to an occasion
of this life
bounced against the unseen screen
separating the worlds
of here and thereafter
contact to haunt all my days remaining
dying first
(in pure progress)
before their vigil done
my late renascence
______________________________________
CLOSING IN
Anne Morrow Lindbergh, The Unicorn and Other Poems
Just room for me to squeeze between
The lowered ceiling and divide,
Just power enough to make the ridge
And, panting, gain the other side,
Just light enough to see my field
And in the shadows kiss the grass;
Just strength, just heart, just time enough,
For me, the tardy one, to pass
O hill, O strip of clearing sky,
Hold up the bars tills I get by!
O lovely day – forgive my sin,
One breath of light will let me in!
