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

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Baptism: a poem by Leo Hartshorn

white cranes cut the silent sky
a crowd of robes huddle on the shore
the water laughs as it hits the rocks
thin reeds dance in the Jordan breeze

into the lapping waters steps a Galilean
wearing the smile of God
awaiting to be plunged beneath
the sin-soaked surface

I thought I saw a dove alighting
maybe it was just a passing crane
I thought I heard a voice from a cracked heaven
maybe it was just the giggling, gurgling waters
I thought I saw the child of God
maybe it was just my reflection
on the mirror of the baptismal waters

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