What do you long for, scrolling alone?
I am looking for love’s face to blend
into the grey-green predawn, then –
How do you sleep when the time’s far gone?
Better for knowing its shallow dip, the
thinly scattered sand, its feathered fall.
What are the names of your guardian guides?
Chamomile, and gratitude.
Who is waiting in the sacred shadow?
I wait for myself. The sensors pulse
with other ghosts and spirits.
How do you live?
I lean on the grid of my days
and pour my bowl of morning gruel.
When will you write the line of your life?
When all my veins are lightning,
and my prayers white fire.
Niiiice!! I particularly like the suggested dare of that opening line, the snap of the final couplet closing.
Thank you very much – so glad you liked those lines.
You probably don’t know the television series “Hill Street Blues,” but among the police officers there was one of U.S. Southern ancestry. He had the twang we adore among our home folks. He would exclaim “Oh my Lord,” when being shot at or otherwise finding a wellspring of emotion. That was my reaction to your poem. Oh my Lord!!
Thank you so much! I don’t know the series well, but am aware of it – I’ll seek out some episodes:)