Medusa's Kitchen published this some time ago. I hope you enjoy it.
I'm still working on the Tornado section of Guy Murchie's Song of The Sky. It will be posted soon. It is worth the wait.
THE CLOTHING OF THE MORNING
The room seems very tiny
As if it could not contain
such a deep sorrow so easily.
The hole extends through the floor
With drifts of dull colored lights
Waiting around the edges of the sore.
We can’t wait any longer. We have
Seen the loved ones taken away
Into the night and have chased
After them as far as this room.
We will find a way to enter the room.
We have already begun to learn
The speech of the guardians at the doors.
One of them asked if we have keys,
Another if we knew where the drinking
Liquid was kept. We told them yes
And led them to the desert edge.
Three of us entered the room
At that time. We could hear
The weeping. We must trust
That everyone is telling the truth.
And singing. Singing. And I am
Singing and I was wearing that same
Clothing the morning wears when
It has something to show to us
That is beyond compare and we
Know it. We wish to repeat
It each time we wear these things.
Having coffee near the dooryard
The moss-covered skull so green,
So beautiful, holding the whitest
Pearl in its teeth like the truth.
We can walk here once again. Messages
From flights of geese sent to the seasons.
We climb the little hill just near
The dingle and recognize everything.
So perfect is the singing we are
Able to invent new words against it.
No comments:
Post a Comment