New Spring

1 July 2014

New Spring

I’ve made allusions to the friend of mine who is ill and dying and whom I will not see again. I will see  him again, though; that is the part difficult to share. We are both intuitive, and he is especially deeply trained. We are both poets, and have spent our lives developing our awareness of all that is subtle. He will only be closer to me after he passes.

He wanted me to pray for his deliverance months ago, but I could not. What has become of us in the meantime? I never want to say too much; it belongs in the realm of prayer and song.

30 June 2014

24

Soon, My Dear

Light in my head, and light on my feet, I know I will wander this wide world and more—
then lay me down under the last source of heat our courses searched hard for, and then I’ll adore
the one who’s been falling and rising forever, but always in view of my slightly-sealed eyes.
All that you are just keeps shining and shining, so strongly, the strength in it has to be wise,
for if it is other—I can’t take you with me; old walls will fall down, but as swiftly our own;
great trees will find themselves stricken and die, and no one will live in their shadow full-grown—
and I will awaken amid sheets of flame where the water all round me is caustic and thin,
I cannot escape, it comes lapping and lapping, and everyone knows the next world will begin
the instant this weird, scarcely known one transposes its angles of vision and tricks of real light,
and we wake up again and remember just where and with whom we spent part if not all of last night.
Brilliant, the shining behind my sealed eyelids, but brilliant again, as they’re wide open here,
and you are beside me and real, if not present as yet; you soon will be, miraculous dear.
Falling and rising, the far-seer’s membrane of dreams, dead and living, the screen of sought signs
brought home to be treasured and lived with—but first, we must willingly cross out old life-or-death lines.

 

 

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About J

Just poetry, in several forms.
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