Before the bright and watery rim of sadness and ecstasy.
Diamonds, zealous, restless, bear wild witness
To his disappearance, the same tonight
As every night, elusive choreography,
Bitter and sweet memory, like light's
Last footsteps on the open sea.
Smoking pot and speaking urgently
Of cars and who knows what.
On a little shelf above the bay,
A shirtless mystic sits still as gulls
And pelicans and swelling seas
Dance chaos and beauty and wind's wishes.
Two lovers step unevenly forward,
Her arm pulling his waist closer,
As if it might help.
I stop to watch them all,
The diamonds preaching unscripted homilies
And the lovers reaching for guarantees they may never know.
And I wonder if I, like my brother, will
Bow tonight before this bright and watery rim
Of sadness, of ecstasy, of my life.
Notes: For Lent this year, I've taken up the practice of writing some poetry each day. I find that it keeps me alert in the ordinariness of hours and the passage of time. And it reminds me how fortunate and grateful I am. Here's another of those poems, amateur-offerings to be sure, but gifts I give to myself just the same.
