Part 11

I watched the elaborate ritual prayer, wondering if
others imagined their god like I did — conducting a
cosmic orchestra, leading stars on giant violins, the
stars beyond the stars we can see playing bamboo

flutes and somewhere behind that, astral fingers
dancing over silver piano keys like drunken fireflies;
or a god walking around a nameless forest like a
pied piper, rivers and lakes chasing behind him; or

a god that sings and crafts poetry, fingers dipped
into the early light. Words as soft as silence. They
might have laughed. I didn’t tell them it was also
how I imagined love. Because a cloud wasn’t a

wrapper that hung empty after all the rain had
fallen. The cloud was the entire rain. I put things
like that in my notebook between poems. About a
god that sat in a cloud that was rain and wrote

about love. About love that could read unfallen
poems, standing in the rain like a god. Things like
that. Things that I left behind after that first drought.
People and rain and love. And god. The poems, I kept.

32 thoughts on “Part 11

  1. Bravo, the use of enjambment is a narrative in its own rite coaxing us on …to the next stanza as well as looking forward to the next serving of poem.
    Much💛love

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  2. This reminds me of the different things I believed or thought as I went through life. Even the stuff way back in my rear view mirror had something to do with the shaping of who I am today. I can appreciate the nostalgia of going through old clothes knowing full well they don’t fit me at all now.

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  3. Oh maybe this is the poem I couldnt find earlier. I love the “astral fingers dancing over silver piano keys like drunken fireflies”. LOVE the closing, and glad you kept the poems! Smiles.

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  4. I’ve always felt that there is only one poem, and it’s ever a row from I to Thou — a love poem whose grace is holy. The lush concordance of heaven and earth with a god who “sings and crafts poetry, fingers dipped / into the early light” is identical with “love that could read unfallen / poems, standing in the rain like a god.” I and Thou become one, if only in resonance of a fine poem. Amen.

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  5. “a god that sings and crafts poetry, fingers dipped into the early light” Just one line in the many I love in this poem.

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  6. I loved so much about this –the metaphors and cadence, the simple stance that is not so simple, and the framing of poetry, of love itself, and of a god who sits on a cloud conducting stars like violins that one might indeed feel at home worshiping, but my favorite phrase was the one beginning “.. Words as soft as silence…” How much more we hear those than the ones that are shouted. Just an excellent poem.

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  7. “Because a cloud wasn’t a wrapper that hung empty after all the rain had fallen. The cloud was the entire rain.” – oh, how lovely are these lines.
    There are other great lines in the poem, but these stay with me.

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