Juxtaposition

I was asked to share some of my poetry with the Black Barn community in their Paper and String October issue. Each month they put out this online journal; it’s lovely to read and a good way to start each month. There are thoughtful essays, reviews, recipes, and poetry. This issue focuses on juxtaposition - so I wrote something specifically for them, as well as shared a couple other poems that went with the idea. I was also asked to record myself reading the poems… so here you go! (Thank you to our friend Tony Guyer for helping me load it up to youtube!)

I.

Cancer hides in the dark—billeted inside me.

If not dealt with, tumors will wreak havoc

in unknown places around my body.

Its shadow lays siege to future hopes.

2.

The other day, as I turned left on to Barley Mill Road,

I caught a glimpse of a single tiny ash leaf.

Its yellow glow skimmed the surface of a breeze.

In that moment I wished it knew

the delight of playing in the sunshine.

3.

And each day this week I have watched a monarch

with orange wings wing its way around a butterfly bush.

It lands on a random white flower

and then flies over my vined-covered fence.

It seems quite happy in its freedom. 

4.

The flowering morning glories and buzzing cicadas,

the floating yellow leaves, the prancing butterflies, 

the quick flight of swallows in the early night sky,

and Jesus—

like the ray of light streaming through green-filled branches—

I want this life in me.

The Sense of Hope 

(for Shawn and Maile)

 How your bare feet feel on soft grass, 

the hard ground underneath;

 Those sweet juices of an orange 

filling your mouth;

 That tenor note halfway through Lux Æterna

that always makes your heart yearn;

 But also the heavy morning mist 

before the sun opens up the curve in the road.

 Hope is now the long wait,

Holding onto the one unseen who still sees. 

The Bird Out My Window

“as hawks rest upon air, and

the air sustains them…”  ~Denise Levertov

 
I keep returning in my mind 

to a bird I saw yesterday.

She sat still on the top-most branch 

of a nearby tree made leaf–empty 

by a late Autumn rain.

Of all places to perch, 

this bird chose the thinnest, 

loneliest twig.

With no other birds nearby, 

she tightly held her own 

against a white sky. 

Her weight, 

or a slight breeze, 

caused the branch to sway. 

With a tilt of her small head 

and a ruffle of feathers, 

the bird looked side to side,

content,

so far away from solid ground. 

I keep wondering—

Is this what its like to

be a sparrow in God’s eyes . . . 

peacefully perched up high, 

confident that letting go 

will not result in a free-fall? 

I recall looking away for a moment, 

and then she was gone.