Stories at Bedtime

Oh my child, have you lit the lamp tonight?
The desert winds howl and moan
as they stretch nimble fingers
and whip the tents.
Our enemy prowls.
Have you lit the lamp tonight?

Did you see the pillar, my child?
The pillar of cloud or fire?
It moves and we move.
We move where it moves,
following on ever-lasting foot-leather
over rock and dust,
past sunning lizard and slithering snake,
to the waters where love
makes bitterness into sweet pools
to cool weary brows.

They say that He is in the pillar, my child.
Yes, they say it's true.
They shiver and quiver and shake
when He speaks with thunderclap,
but I have heard Him whisper.
I have heard His voice
as I watch you sleep,
your eyes folded like praying hands.
He whispers, "As you love this child,
so I love you, and him too. Do not fear
when My glory moves to places strange
to eyes too used to Egypt's gleam.
Other wonders have I prepared for you.
Believe Me, and you will see."

So we light the lamp of welcome
to our God, the lamp of light
in thick darkness, to push
away the taint of slavery,
to say to the night,
"You shall not cause our feet
to stumble. Surely God
guides us ever, steady on."

And now sleep, my child.
God sings over us in our slumber
and makes us safe as we rest.
Sleep, and believe. For the pillar
will move, and follow it
we will—the glory of our Lord.

12.1.03

poema(s) en proceso

Forgive the Spanglish, if I got the Spanish wrong. It's been an interesting two days.

Anyhoo, this is something in process. Still toying with the metaphors and how the thing should progress, so PLEASE ADVISE! What do you think? Seriously, I WANT FEEDBACK!!!



(untitled as yet)

reaching out
reaching over
no hand in the darkness
no head on the other pillow

but still...
the ghost of your hand
lays neatly in mine
the ghost of your smile
glows a moonlit patch

leftover strains
haunting rhythms
echo in corridors
delineating
what cannot be there


OK, so maybe I wrote poetry bits today rather than one whole poem. Yeah. Anyway, here's another bit:

(untitled as yet)

one cannot live
on freeze-dried hopes
that crumble when
taken off the shelf


And another bit:

(yes, untitled)

i was looking for reasons
when reason had left me
alone and confused
bruised
by broken expectation's
hard, sharp corners


And yet another:

time keeps marchin' on
right through to the sea
and leavin' nothin' but
rubble behind

[Cheery, no?]


will light stepping
forward, side, back, side
find another light
that dances
a complementary pattern?


Well, that's it for today. Please do comment.