Once in a while I get struck down by a flu bug. Usually it comes with a migraine – that’s just the way I’m made I guess. So on those ocassions when I’m full of flu but with a relatively clear head, I can write. The last 4 days has been one such ocassion.
I cancelled dinner plans, breakfast plans, a poetry reading, church commitments and then I retreated.
However, I did attend an online ‘bring a poem’ with some new american friends (1 am local time here) and I did write some first drafts – very short first drafts. These are the kinds of poem that emerge from feeling physically down, but having time on my hands:
No shadow
before light’s warmth.
No sadness
before joy’s kiss.
That’s just the way it is.
I never loved
Til I did
I never loved again
Til when I did
And then I never did again
Until maybe now
I might
so much splendor we cannot picture
waving beyond our spectrum
so many hymns we cannot hear
pitched outside our range
so much love we cannot bear
unbearably tender
but one day we’ll see more clearly
hear more keenly
and love more fully
one day …
He set out the long, round table
created for a long, close wedding supper
where the family can recline,
face to face, facing the King,
with room for eternity
I don’t do sides
–— I’ve chosen my side
at least not yours
–— and it’s not yours
They’re too far apart
–— I choose peace
and no thread will mend
—- it’s not yours to decide
the chasm you defend
—- this choice is mine
Oh, and on day 4 – I got a migraine.
Not Too Poetry 