April 27, 2018

A Methodist Beltane ... #NaPoWriMo2018 Day 27

poet and sister after church sometime in the 1970's


where did I go 
a lover darkly 
what childhood came 
wind to fire 
what got me high, wired  
kited by ways spy days 
lazy river songs I 
would long for 
when does play 
get after 
did I know 
not to know 
flow wolves go 
where shadows 
are born onto the light 

I so longed to be 
in the Sun again 
I was sure the picnic after church 
was to be rained on and we would 
cramp ourselves into the basement gymnasium 
eight foot tables lined up, connected, covered 
by vinyl, patterned with the colors 
of death and salvation 
we were wee an army 
bibles and bellies full 
of things we could recollect 
curing with warm hearth sate 
and the strength of our community 

the rents we pay 
are for the sunshine 
rain is free 
as long as you 
don't mind 
being born 
all the time 

I listen to music 
when I poem 
I never know 
what to do 
when the quiet comes 
like morning again 
ready to be made 
into something surreal 
or beautiful 
or odd 
or necessary enough 
to share with first 
my caffeinated fingers 
and then the quick edit 
of a few re-reads 
louder and prouder 
with demonstrative beckoning(s) 
here the poem 
like most of us 
I imagine 
waits to breathe 

having already 
taken a seat 
near where 
the desserts 
were kept

EJR © 

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