This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine...

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Might Be Is Too

My friend Anna and I sometimes write poetry call and responses to each other during our work days. On 1/10/08 she told me it'd been too long and I wrote this.

Might Be Is Too

My commute, like a dream, on this grey morning.
I’m conjuring questions that I want to ask
and begging my world’s concrete to crack.

In a bare bush outside my tall brick building
an old aluminum can, that held cheap beer,
has been wedged near the base for months.
My cat dashed off and scampered behind
a fenced-off alley just as I was about to
remove that garbage from that holy place
and I had to give chase. I called to her
from the fence in front of the narrow alley,

she did not come. I called to her. I ran.
I ran one way. I doubled back; called to her

and jogged down a back set of steps, down

from the third story to the fenced off alley.

She wasn’t there. She sat.

She sat down now on the other side of the fence.
I wondered if she wondered where I had gone.
I called to her; she turned and trotted back to me.
Like a dream the can’s importance had vanished as
the day rushed in. An hour later again I begged,
begged the Divine to come back to me. Begged
the concrete tunnel, with its rails of steel and beams,
to crack deeply down to sediment. I thought I’d
hug a stranger just to feel another living thing in
my arms. I walked. I walked up to the street,
the concrete and marble planters lining the walks.
I thought to the bare winter trees, you are living.
I thought to the sky with its birds, you are living.
You are what is: you are being. I looked at my feet atop
the cement, that scab and thought, well, you are made
of the living. You might be what is too. I called to Her.

I remembered the can left behind and thought, to it,
perhaps now, the holy place you’ve been wedged into
for months has made you living too. Perhaps now,
you belong there.

edited 1.28.09

1 comment:

ammie said...

Lovely, truly.