Mineral Song

“There are tears at the heart of things, and men are touched by what human beings have to bear.” ~ Virgil, Aeneid

Oh love I want to lie in your lap full in the sun,
to bring everything I have that’s querulous,
tremulous, divided from this air dripping
with nectar from the tulip trees in bloom.

Will I remember what this moment
might have been? So often the world
overturns in the bowl of the spoon.
Its silver flashes like a warning at noon.

And still I forgive its afflictions,
what it sows, hard and bright:
salt and ore in the heart of things.

 

In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

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1 Comment


  1. So often the world/ overturns in the bowl of the spoon./…And still I forgive its afflictions…

    A BURDEN OF THINGS

    There are built-in chambers of grace
    and afflictions in the heart of things;
    we enter them more often than not
    when we least expect to be touched
    by what we find or not find there.

    In there, loving finds the lover unloved,
    hoping thwarts the dreamer at every turn;
    faithfulness, teetering on the cup of fate,
    falls off flailing and finds betrayal instead.

    In faith, these are wages of a lost paradise,
    which, as twin-faced harlequins, we strive
    to regain, no longer with pure passion
    but perhaps haplessly in suppliant prayer
    that we might receive because we are wiser
    and have learned to forgive. But not forget.

    —Albert B. Casuga
    06-02-11

    Reply

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