If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away---Henry David Thoreau

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

A Pastoral Visit

she sits locked in her broken prison of flesh
hands gesture with no word crossing her lips
her black maid is her voice having been
her right arm for years

On the rocking chair I share with her
the latest news of church and children
draped in blanket and silence she listens
I pray my presence fills the air
more than my words

with skin touching skin, young and old,
black and white, we pray together
for strength, peace, patience, comfort
in spoonfuls, grace sufficient for the day

leaving I sit in my car and cry
for life unfair as a robber
stealing her voice, but not her gentle spirit
on the freeway a sign shouts
LIFE IS HARSH! (your tequila shouldn’t be)
And I drive home drunk on it’s half-truth

No comments:

Post a Comment