Reading Poetry

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A new Monday morning.

Theo, tight fisted, dozes under the piano for an early morning nap. Archer has yet to wake. Robert prays and reads at his desk. I situate myself between my (getting cold) coffee, water, toast, and books.

The books. Here’s the thing. I have a bad habit of reading for a few weeks and then taking a long break where I just don’t feel like reading. Shelves of our books beg me to give them a chance, yet still just the other day I attempted to start a random ebook off the digital “to read” list I keep. It’s silly.

This morning, feeling inspired, I remind myself to hide the evil ipad so Archer will not be tempted to w-a-t-c-h. (We have to spell it out like that in our house, do you?) Out of sight out of mind, I hope. So no reading ebooks for me today! Or anyday, really.

Anyway, the books. They beckon me to that shelf in the corner and really I’m having trouble picking one. Something short would put me back in the habit of reading after feeling the satisfaction of finishing a book. Poetry seems manageable. Still, I can’t pick just one so I take “Night” by Elie Wiesel. It’s thin.IMG_5732 copy

…And I pick up “Possibility of Being” by Rilke. The first two pages have me transported to another realm. I feel as though I’ve dipped into the Kingdom of God. Fighting off the urge to run in and interrupt Robert’s quiet, I want to savor this moment.

These verses possess life, and Rilke breathes into my day. A new week marinated in poetry–Monday given wings by these words.

like a lion

[pictures of my love and thoughts about the present]

so march alights

not with a treacherous roar

but a graceful dusting

 

white as snow

 

expectancy tingles in our toes

swells in our scarved throats

 

we recall winters past

where we come from

some hidden growth

 

a seed fallen

 

march’s fullness:

a divine gift within

 

maybe this could be

life’s answer to

all our distant questions

 

springing up from the ground

the eighth day of autumn

In that vulnerable voice
you asked me if the quiet
had brought me clarity.

I drove in to work today
and found a rainbow in the sky.

When I search for God,
sometimes it feels like he hides himself.
But today I remember
he breathes his word through
creation, living in us and the leaves
and the wind and the clouds.

When I see a rainbow,
I feel like the new earth is being unveiled,
the seasons are changing, and God still
keeps his promises.

When I think of you darling,
in the midst of all of this,
life’s day-to-day grind,
work and mundane, checklists and meetings,
eating and sleeping and driving,
I know we will last forever.
Our love has full clarity inside of me.

Autumn has caught her grip on us,
pushing us forward, pulling us out
into the rest of what we will be.