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Posts Tagged ‘darkness’

Crickets




When they sing
it is a kind of love,
a pure-toned,
full-bodied ringing
born of friction.
You could say
it’s just a wingstroke
that makes a pulse of sound
that joins with all
the other pulses
to form a river of music,
and you would be right.
But there are many ways
to face the dark.
One is to hide.
One is to prowl.
One is to bring
the bright music
of your body
and offer it
to the night.

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from sweet nectar
and bitter pollen
all the honey

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For your birthday, Johannes,
I listened to your first piano concerto,
my heart trembling like a tuning fork
as the ivory keys and nylon strings
conversed about tenebrous grief and loss.

No one hissed in the audience
the way they did when your concerto
debuted. In fact, in my kitchen,
I sighed. I gasped. I thanked you
for the turbulence. What a gift when our sorrow

meets a sister sorrow so beautiful
we forget our own story, our own name,
and we tender what’s left
of our aching hearts to the blooming dark
that even now opens around us, inside us.

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Why I Stay Up Late




So gently the darkness
curls around the world,
first dusky, then dim,
then lushly black—
so generous, the way
it thickly spreads
the softest of songs
until silence silks
the empty streets
and velvets the vacant rooms—
even this riotous heart
inclines toward quietude

and whatever part of me
that knows something yawns
and the part of me
who falls in love
with mystery
leans more easily
into the ever-unknown

and I meet the starry
grand embrace,
speck that I am,
and marvel
at my insignificance,
marvel at how enormous
it is, this openness,
this gratitude.

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One Devotion

these darkest days

teach me

the light of you

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In Times of Great Darkness

I want to do for you

what the sun does for me—

coax you to come

outside, to breathe in

the golden air.

I want to enter you

and warm you,

fill you with brilliance,

make your muscles melt,

make your mind shush.

I want to prepare for you

luminous paths

that span across deep space,

thaw any part of you

that feels frozen,

find any cracks

and slip shine into them.

Your shadow, I want to intensify it

so you might better know

your own shape.

I want to encourage you

to open, wider, wider,

want to teach you

to write your name

in light.

Find this poem published in the amazing ONE ART POETRY

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sitting in darkness—

how easily I forget

we are separate

 

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meeting my shadow

every day I practice this—

walking in the dark

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There are darknesses in me,

places I would disregard.

Is it any wonder every year

I plant thousands of tiny seeds

and then wander the garden,

rooting for each as overnightly

they put up rows of tiny leaves.

How easily I forget what is possible.

 

 

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Sumatra

 

 

I want to serve you Sumatra,

the wild, mossy, mushroomy

dark of it. I want to serve you

 

the muted black song in a white cup,

so you can, if you listen closely,

hear the birds of Southeast Asia

 

with their foreign calls,

hear the farmer as he hums

while he picks the coffee cherry,

 

as he removes its dark red skin.

I want to serve you the scent of moss,

so strong you find yourself laying in it,

 

staring up at the sky through

the canopy, laying there for hours

forgetting anything else to do.

 

Will you find there, too,

the hint of old leather, a favorite

belt, a favorite shoe, something

 

familiar to slip into? Dark in the cup,

dark like midnight, dark like two a.m., dark

like the silence that finds the world then.

 

Dark in the cup, like fathomless space

where a small voice whispers, stay awake.

And there, in the cup, the gift of a place

 

where we have never been, but

together, perhaps, we could sip the Sumatra

and visit again and again.

 

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