I am the half of you
clutched in tiny
layers of God’s blanket
partly covered, barely warm.
You pray at sunset, but I crave
the moments of collective worship,
hop on one leg to get there
since you’re the other.
You see the future fleeting
while I shiver now-
aim to example the generations
an eternal view that overrules
the moment of physical provision.
You anticipate a full pantry
while I’m hungry for your presence
what together we would receive
joy that only both of us can know,
bringing others to the lost Tree.
Because I long for more,
the unchartered scape you will shirk-
pass the roses on the sidewalk
and divine days that overcome
tomorrow’s time travel.
All these things and more
to fill the dent in your rib
and launch us to the mountain;
goodness, what my ears hear
eyes see, and heart receives
this view from the top
without you-
oh, but the things you miss.
In a list
Comments
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I loved the layers in this poem. I find that re reading it I see yet a deeper meaning, or a meaning perhaps I missed with the first read. I particularly liked the fourth stanza.
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I have you on my favorites but I rarely read you not because I don't love your work, but because I feel you don't need a hack poet like myself to comment on a published author. My sister has lived her thirty something year marriage just dying for him to get a grasp on eternity. He lives now, she lives forever. I applaud her efforts for bearing the spiritual load. I'm not certain of my neice and nephew's spiritual situation as I do not delve much at family gatherings. However, the hopping on one leg has had to wear on someone or everyone. Dianne, I pray that it is within my realm to have the courtesy to speak here and I hope I caught it. RC
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Once again I am awe struck with you words. What lovely words you have penned. I find myself reading it over and over again and gaining new meaning each time -- you are so good at writing multiple layers.
Thank you.
Garrison
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Nice poem with good metaphore
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