Amid the longing, the memory, the dread:
wet furrows, a horse, mist
Tag Archives: poetry
Opaque
“Write what you know,”
my teacher said they say.
But what did I?
I didn’t know what I knew.
Rain soaks the trees
The trees don’t mind
What does beauty do
Inside you?
The man on the wall in my room under a tree reading a book
The wood is the sacred wood.
The tree is the cross.
He’s been there
and may be there
for quite some time.
On a day like this
You shower
shave
pack your lunch
and go to work
Trying
Just like that cloud
The gentlest of souls has died
He will, I trust, be less confused
by his companions.
Their gentleness will match his own.
They made a boulevard through my midday woods
Whacked the weeds,
chopped the trees.
I don’t like it.
Why do we ask why?
Because something in being
cries out to make sense
Utrecht Journal 