The Swan

Whispered Poem

I have been risky in my endeavors,
I have been steadfast in my loves;
Oh Lord, consider these when you judge me.

Sing, if you can sing, and if not still be
musical inside yourself.

Lord, there are so many fires, so many words, in
my heart

Some persons are captive to love, others would
make the beloved a captive. Which one are you?

Where are you when you’re not thinking?
Frightening, isn’t it?
Where are you when you’re not feeling anything?
Oh, worse!
Except for faith and imagination, nature is that
hard fortress you can’t get out of.

Just as truly as the earth is ours, we belong
to it.

Mystery, after all,
is God’s other name

Who are the good people? We are all good people
except when we are not.

In the Darkness

At night the stars
throw down
their postcards of light.
Who are they
that love me
so much?
Strangers
in the darkness—
imagine!
they have seen me
and they burn
as I too
have burned, but in
the mortal way, to which
I am totally loyal.
Still, I am grateful
and faithful
to this other romance
though we will not ever know
each others’ names,
we will not ever
touch.

I Worried

I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not, how shall
I correct it?
Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?
Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
hopeless.
Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?
Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.