Poems IV

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IV. Return

"...the tide that carries us farther and farther away from our beginning in time is also the tide that turns and carries us back again." --Frederick Buechner

"that which is loved romantically is, for the lover, an image of God." --Mary McDermott Shideler

* * * * *

Two Lovers

Two lovers

gray with age

arrive at the door

of an old white

church,

where their life

as one began.

Fifty years ago

they walked this

aisle hand-in-hand

from the garden

into the wilderness;

now the wilderness

has bloomed--

now the garden

is filled with hours

of ruby slipper sand.

There is the longing

in the soul

that dreams

and waits

impatiently--

it is the owl

who'ing in the dark.

There is a moment

when lovers know.

The dance of courting,

romancing,

sweet seducing,

draws to a close

as a curtain

marks the acts ...

when lovers know.

There is the pause--

so short,

so eternity,

when the breath

is held,

when the words

rush out around

the question--

the sun rises

full

and is never seen.

There is no time,

like the time

that falls away ...

when there is

only knowing ...

the faces of time,

the beauty out

of time.

There may be

an ache

of absence

so minutes swell

and drag as drops

of water on a

pane of glass

in the wind,

the clock moves

in largo,

the passing is ever

out of reach.

There is this table

where I sit and gaze

upon the sun and moon

as they drift across

your eyes

and fill me with

their light--

I can see

a thousand suns

and moons

in the turning

of your eyes.

There are the

walls that echo

carpenters

who labored

long ago,

in this darkened

room, where the

lovers blow

upon the coals

that glowed so

orange red--

they feel it

in the bones

that pound

as hammers with

a rhythmic slap

of a banjo clock.

There are the days

of looking back,

the days of birth

and wedded bliss,

the photographs

that now bemuse

and soak up

the hours that spin

into a woven

thread,

the lovers weave

to dab their eyes.

Lovers know the

history--

the winding

of the vine

that carries them

in pumpkin coach--

these roots

hold all the shoots of pain

these roots

hold all the bloom of time ...

the lovers

only know.

10.

Lovers know the

fullness,

the lovers know the

ends,

the last empty

heart

within the

first,

the first full

heart

within the

last.

Two lovers

gray with age

arrive at the door

of an old white

church,

where their life

as one began.

Fifty years ago

they walked this

aisle hand-in-hand

from the garden

into the wilderness;

now the wilderness

has bloomed--

now the garden

is filled with hours

of ruby slipper sand.

* * * * *

"Within each of us there is a tribe with a complete cycle of legends and dances, songs to be sung...Every I is a we" --Sam Keen

Four Corners

In the four
corners
of his life
sat the four
saints
blowing on
the sea as
winds on the
points of a
rooster vane,
squeaking
"wake up!"
and see
there's a new
day so
past is passed
once more.

The first saint
stood and bowed,
and lost his
graying wig,
with a giggle
and a hiccup
turned and danced
to the center
of the room.

The second saint
steepled his fingers
against his nose
narrowed his eyes
and spoke a single
word, which he
caught in mid air
and walked it
to the center
of the room.

The third saint
winked and tapped
his foot,
he rose with a
flush of red
to his cheeks--
he brought a
flower
to the center
of the room.

The fourth saint
closed his eyes
and whispered
ssh! He breathed
a couplet into
his pocket and
drew a song out
in the center
of the room.

Things were
crowded in that
small white space
the four collided
and turned around
back to back
they were the
faces of the moon,
face to face
right hands
interleaved
they took a vow
to be the sun
of atoms fused,
centered in
the small
white room.

* * * * *

"For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face.

Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known."

--1 Cor. 13:12

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