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Posts Tagged ‘My poems’

Apollon touched me once; I don’t know why.

A cool breeze on the back of my neck,

on a hot day; the hairs stood up, there

where he touched me. The breath of a god

on the back of your neck will chill you,

will stop you, as you’re walking down

the street. Who is that? you ask yourself

What just happened?

 

Apollo is a god of light, but not a god

of heat; he illumines without burning.

He shoots from afar, the Greeks said,

he and his sister Artemis. He doesn’t have

to come close to touch you; you will not

see where the arrow comes from, or

who it was that spoke. Only the clouds

will suddenly clear, the sun will be

visible, and you will feel, not warm,

but cool.

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“The Annunciation” by Hans Meming (1480-89)

Subordinate angels hold her while Gabriel speaks his piece:
As if, without their help, she might somehow get away
From those inexorable words. Will she run in fear, or faint in shock?
The Almighty Lord, in whom heaven and earth reside,
Needs an earthly hiding place; needs someone to do his dirty work.
The angel speaks of favor, presence, birthing; does Mary hear
good news, or danger, disgrace, and darkness?
Is it a gentle dove that hovers, waiting to come in,
Or a looming hawk, waiting to stoop and strike?

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Not exactly a haiku

Who can shine the light for me
on the way I have to go?
The pear tree is in blossom.

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Hommage a Taliesin

I have been a pagan
I have been a Christian
I have been a finch in a cage
I have been a cardinal in a tree
I have been a mockingbird on a stop sign
I have been a nun, I have been an oracle
I have been an Anglican in a choir
I have been a mushroom in the wood
I have been a courtesan in a monastery
I have been an anchorite in a city
I have been a Buddhist, I have been a witch
I have been burned at the stake
I have set myself on fire in Viet Nam
I have written angry letters
I have meditated in silent peace
I have been an eagle soaring toward the sun
I have been a vulture waiting for the dead to ripen
I have been Lilith, I have been Eve
I have been Mary, Martha, and Magdalen
I have been Sophia Acamoth
and Shekinah with her tent on her back
I have been a wanderer
I have been a Jew, I have been black
I have been dark but comely among the horses of Solomon
I have been a druid, I have been a valkyrie
I have walked the streets and walked in vision
and no one knew who I was
I have been all things to all, like Paul,
that I might by all means save some
I have been a heretic and a bodhisattva
I have been three times in the prison of Arianrhod
but I have not yet heard all her stories
I have drunk under moonlight from the cauldron of Cerridwen
but never yet reached the bottom
I have been a housewife, I have been a cook,
I have cleaned toilets and washed dishes
I have risen in the night with a vomiting child
I have answered phones when I could barely speak
I have worked in a library and sung Christ’s reproaches
I have been your mother and you have been mine
I have walked the labyrinth and am still walking
and it is not known whether I am spirit or flesh

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