Tuesday, December 29, 2015

Grace (A Poem)

Bare Tree, Pogonip Trail, 12.29.15

I would be stripped bare by winter's cold,
Diminished by wild December winds
And emptied of embellishment and color.

I would be brought low, to my knees,
By beauty I can not grasp and poetry
I can not conjure and the ordinary
Mulching of autumn's leaves into damp death.

I would wait just here, in the wood,
Where I've planted a tear and a regret
And a sad love song for earth
And all that's glorious and ordinary here.

Is it your voice I hear now, in the settling
Of my losses on this forest floor?
Is it your sweet song that lifts
These branches in the gathering dark?

I would follow you, I pray,
Into all I cannot know and cannot see,
Into unwritten futures and heartbreak.

So promise me nothing but love,
And extend no comfort but grace.
Bid me no gospel but this:
Come now.

DGJ (12.29.15)

Path through Pogonip, 12.29.15