they will smell of ashes & oranges, of origin & anise
they will call out to brother stone & sister mud, brother wind
& sister air & wait for father tree & mother river to answer
tree & river, stone & mud, wind & air will speak
to them when they do & not speak when they don’t
& none but they will know the difference between
the visitation of the word & the silence of the world
according to what they have received they will speak
& they will at times hold their tongue
you might wonder don’t they weary of standing
at the corner tongue in hand waiting for speech
you might wonder how they will speak when the word
descends upon them & they with a dry tongue in hand
& all that word rushing into the estuary of their mouth
like a tidal bore & they without tongue to ride the wave
but these are the silly questions of those who suffer
no visitations for they know not all waves are to be ridden
they know once the waves of the visitation settle loneliness
& wailing are all that’s left even when the word is love
especially when the word is peace or mercy or grace
My goodness! Eager to see where this one leads you.
This is one I will come back to again and again! Love it!
What a ride this takes the reader on!
With knotted from the first poem, I’m ready to delve into this second one. In the beginning was the word, but in this second, the word is powerful, is god.
I am seeing people who are represented by a martyr, those who have spiritual sensitivity and those who fear it. This is raising a tumult in my heart.
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