poem 443 of a poem a day for 2012

painting by David Stoupakis ©

telephoning christmas taut elements, writing sin to glory and back again

sometimes we lie

wide awake

when documenting

our lives

between the animal

and our human grace

we are drawn

to little pieces

of perfect paper

sleeping in lines

with geometric fines

printing designs

like snowflakes

or leaves

or tacit garden

memories

our poems and

storied calls to arms

know the heart

might be the only organ

without a need

for a body temple

as the brain’s consciousness

may very well survive death

this is something, however

we can never be sure of

and something we can

only come to know

when writing with love

and wiring ourselves into

the one thing

that never dies

so wishing we may

and wishing we might

each come alive

on a falling star

is a dark saliency

a streaking bright truth

keeping hope alive

inside the dolls

and masks

we fashion

to folly ourselves

against fear

one day

we will look

into every glass eye

and actually know

who we are

when peace

on Earth

or at least

one night of it

makes us sure

that every heart

has become

a poem and

a song and

a story

of how love

keeps dialing

our number

just right

EJR ©