Slowly: out of that sleep that numbs the knife edge, I come home to a various world, to faces and voices, To a blur of angels at this keep, awaiting.
Vague prophecies of life somewhat lasting, A testing of steadying heartbeat, of firm susperation.
Such is the welcomed review of my waking, I, who long wait a review of old words: Indifferent journals stack high in the dusty library.
It is time to set this whole house in order: With what mutual joy, then, this steady acclaim; A cold stethoscope even assures of rumbling gases, Last sign of return to the intricate, the elemental.
What joy in this communal moment devoted to life: We celebrate this late voice of my waking, The lowly intestines surrendering recovery.
Slowly: I shall return to dark bread and deep wine.
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
The German Gambit
Reinhard Cardinal Marx stated recently that the German bishops intend to issue a formal liturgical blessing for…
On Aliens and Our Alienation from God
The Department of War recently released dozens of files, dating back to the 1940s, of UFO sightings.…
While We’re At It
In Palm Sunday reflections posted on his website, Coram Fratribus, Bishop Erik Varden observes: In the Saint…
