Wednesday, December 15, 2004
This is for my poetic friends out there Mshairi being one of them:
Passover
The hotter the sun the whiter the bloom,
my grandmother used to say of the dogwoods,
Christ’s trees, still bearing his blood,
and our hearts, of course,
in need of redemption.
On her cue, I’d wield a bowl of potato peels
out past the barn to the hog pen
where they snout-rooted mud-slime
and anything I threw them,
squealing indescribable glee.
I’ve spent my lifetime thinking on sin,
on the dark place a heart is
and the mind trying its best to slant it
otherwise, two prongs
like a snake’s strike.
I’ve spent my lifetime shuffled back and forth—
in awe of the leaf-shape, the fungus-browned bark;
seeing everything as moral, as indictment of self.
Which is it?
the thing as itself? or the lesson it teaches?
I’m almost thirty-three now, the age of Jesus when he said,
“It is finished.” At night the crickets deem the universe
a simple place of ease, a drift toward the next day’s
brilliance of light.
I wake and undo. I pray these little blasphemes.
Passover
The hotter the sun the whiter the bloom,
my grandmother used to say of the dogwoods,
Christ’s trees, still bearing his blood,
and our hearts, of course,
in need of redemption.
On her cue, I’d wield a bowl of potato peels
out past the barn to the hog pen
where they snout-rooted mud-slime
and anything I threw them,
squealing indescribable glee.
I’ve spent my lifetime thinking on sin,
on the dark place a heart is
and the mind trying its best to slant it
otherwise, two prongs
like a snake’s strike.
I’ve spent my lifetime shuffled back and forth—
in awe of the leaf-shape, the fungus-browned bark;
seeing everything as moral, as indictment of self.
Which is it?
the thing as itself? or the lesson it teaches?
I’m almost thirty-three now, the age of Jesus when he said,
“It is finished.” At night the crickets deem the universe
a simple place of ease, a drift toward the next day’s
brilliance of light.
I wake and undo. I pray these little blasphemes.
Comments:
Thank you! You are truly talented and should consider getting your work published.
Jesus said 'it is finished', for you, it continues. A life spent contemplating sin is a life not lived, my friend.
It is wonderful to meet another Kenyan blogger poet. I look forward to reading more from you.
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Jesus said 'it is finished', for you, it continues. A life spent contemplating sin is a life not lived, my friend.
It is wonderful to meet another Kenyan blogger poet. I look forward to reading more from you.
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