Sunday, November 13, 2016

Marion, your face at 60

Sure I see you as you look -
a loosening of flesh
with lines written by a procession of worries
from life’s stories you’d rather not have known
(though you possess a persistent sort of beauty
unique to women aging well)

Still the face I see is inescapably smoothing
de-lined by memories' images accumulated
year upon year since first I saw you
seated and still in a small hall, Sunday
at Stones Corner 40 years past.

In those early months you cast
your Song of Solomon eyes toward mine
soft pomegranates budding
from beneath your loosened shirt
I have the photo still
among my treasures.

No need though
or for those other snaps
from years stored in shoe boxes

To see
four decade’s
cultivated sources
like rejuvenating lotions
infusing your face at 60
- all the fullness of you.

Those early faces present still
resembling perhaps your timeless self
as I shall see it in the Kingdom we long for.
Intersecting identity particles
making up the true and constant you.

Connecting the Dots

above these three small
pearls . . . hangs a wordless space -
like companionable silence . . .
suffused with the unspoken . . .
a weighted space
between old friends
in conversation started long before.

See trinity
in god-scape redolent of unspoken words
companionable silence
. . . before the world was spoke to life
. . . before the Word
on dusty feet

comes calling out to Lazarus.