Filaments of tendon and heart
uprooted from earth dangle
in air, tendrils of love's ligaments
scream flames of grief
and rage
as the boy searches for home
inside a phone booth
smeared by heatwaved August
buried underneath
stuccoed apartments
on the liquor store corner
of Broadway
and Nowhere.
In the horrific darkness of this war in Ukraine,
this assault perpetrated on innocents sheltered
in subway stations and theaters for a semblance
of safety, I who am thousands of miles
away from harm thank god every morning
for Mary Oliver and for my friend Therese
who gifted me with an anthology of poetry
composed by this tiny powerful woman
who is a gorgeous bird suddenly landing
on the backyard lemon tree pregnant
with life, with the fragrance of blossoms,
a promise of ease.
Mary's music, her airborne words and earthy images
embrace my cheeks softly and like a cool stream
she gazes into my eyes weary from television news,
as she sings such care, such beauty
into these eyes these ears this heart
encouraging our world
and all who walk upon holy ground
to become a safe
bright place once more.
Behind us, an orange and
pink dawn bleeds across
the lip of the earth, ahead
the blurred image
of a meandering stream
kisses this stand of birches,
sensuous and regal
as they whisper thanks
slowly revealing earth's
infinity of secrets
underneath eagle and hawk,
weather and cloud--
this blue fountain of whirling
planets, shrouded stars
overflowing overhead
with songs of peace,
of lament, of release,
beckoning for everyone
future's unnameable gifts.
Our presence
in the space
of your absence,
a leaf shimmering
at dawn
resting
at dusk
drifts down
to earth....
EROSION AND ITS AFFILIATES
