L C Vieira (Lisbon, Portugal)
On yet another extraordinary day
I scrub my underwear against the rock
realizing too late
the dark moss markings add to this simple chore
'The rocks cry out, ' I smile at the verse with
the same ancient sadness of those
touched by the One whose praise
rises from all rocks and trees
struggling as on these shores,
their long lakes
reminding, reminding with each
tap and roar -
and stop -
yes, when they stop,
echoes that Great Whisperer's longing
The sky is low today, strips of grays
and distant blues, a glimmer of bright
in sight, but disappearing.
I sit along the rock edge and last night's ashes
comforted by that overhead blanket
its praise to the Hand of wonder
The dark has long passed when I
stayed awake to see and hear
more mysteries with each breath
of wild treasured air
listening for the scurrying feet or
watching bold stars break through,
twinkling promises of
a double rainbow day
We'll eat well again tonight
our bellies full as are the lively loons'
their chorus rising with the orange flames
hearts dancing with the fire, carrying us higher
So why this sadness? Have I forgotten?
Do the rocks forget? The trees, lakes and sky?
Do they turn away, curse their loss?
Is my crown too tight or shaken?
I take Your gifts - and forget.
Yet still You tap and roar
across these lakes and rocks
through these trees
across the sky -
the earth groaning
waiting along with You
Comments about this poem (Extraordinary Day by L C Vieira )
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