“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for,
the evidence of things not seen.” ~ Hebrews 11:1
I am the sheen of the egg after it has dropped its sun
into the heated pan. I am the cool underlining the day.
I am the dry, cracked bodhi leaf that fell from the tree
under which the sage closed his eyes and made a perfect
circle with his finger and thumb, and now lies in a frame
bought at the temple gift shop. I am the trill of a cricket
craning its body toward autumn in ninety degree heat.
I am the hunger that swerved like a bus on a switch-
back trail, so the hens and the goats being taken
to market broke out of their makeshift cages,
scrambling into the bushes to safety. I am
the tremble in the arc of the pendulum weight
as it hums from the tension in its silver wire.
I am the dream that flickers beneath the eyelids
of the child who wakes then names the events
that unfold. I am the filament that lodges
in the throat, tasting of salt and bone. And I,
I am the clock that stops just short of despair,
the zipper’s train whistling to the end of the track
and back; the shirt that fastens all the way to the top
so fingers can loosen the tiny buttons a little, or a lot.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
I like how this poem gains momentum as it reaches its conclusion. I kind of tumbled down into it. Very nice!
Tumbling— I like that! :) You’re up late? or you’re in a different part of planet USA?
I’m an hour behind, so it’s just now 11:00 PM here. But I am in graduate school full-time right now, so my hours are pretty whacked out. I tend to stay up until 1-2 AM. :)
Story of my life. The late night (morning) hours. :)
Beautiful Luisa! You have left me speechless.
Thanks, Uma.
Wow.
Hi Dale! :)
“A Dream” is my poem response to Luisa’s “What You Don’t Always See” at:
http://ambitsgambit.blogspot.com/2011/07/dream.html