for the children of eternity

Life is at once epic and insignificant.

We throw up our hands

'cause we're all gonna die

and it's hardly in our hands anyhow--

so we might as well enjoy the ride

for the time we are given...

and withholding laughter

is no way to live.

Where is your courage, o man?

To plumb these depths,
dig down to the roots of grief and love,
to seek justice and practice prayer as if fighting to break to the surface to gasp for one more breath...

to live

... with utter passion

and gracious discipline.

What if the only Perfection to pursue
     were merciful?
     Truth personal?
Yet in my pride I often find,
Knowledge and foolishness are too easily mistook.
         Where, o man, did you lose your sense of wonder?

In sum there is life and life is more than nothing and life is deep,

breaking boxes into beyonds.

Idolize nothing, I have decided.

Worship,

pursue,

dwell in One thing, but only if it is worthy-- 

if it is more wondrous than all else I have seen.

We're all children from first to last anyhow,

underneath wrinkles and bitterness and years of scorn

an entire eternity holds our hands and spins us in circles, like children--

we might yet fly!--

safe in his Arms,

Trust Truth, He tells us,

for trust is love and trust is faith and Love is worth believing in.

So shut tight your eyes, hold your hands over your ears,

ignore the apathy and defy the taunts and cry at the top of your lungs:

'HOPE! DARE TO HOPE!'--

and dance like the fool you are.

untitled portrait

Professor S speaks in a hushed tone

gentle, like the scenic route

that was never meant to compete with faster traffic.

He walks-- rather, meanders-- in no hurry,

huddled like an unintentional question mark,

stooped by the weathering forces of years well-lived.

I love his smile...

   I cannot bring to mind what it looks like 

   but that it was accidentally genuine,

genuinely sweet and made the heart swell--warmed--

   and hot air rises upward

   where hope is.

He reads us poetry,

and tells us to read to each other,

and I often am lulled to sleep,

safe in his sanctuary;

a classroom with invisible stained glass through which the wintry sun streams

prisms of light, and words,

and I can be so small,

and so safe.

Did he know that my heart crumpled and wept

at his mercy?

To think with my heart and write with colored dust and water and the inspiration of instinct;

analysis can starve abundance from life,

much as reflection brings us closer to it.

He was kindness to my heartbreak,

An adopted grandfather when I was an orphan of loneliness.

That year I knew of love's austere and lonely offices,

but what he knew too

made all the difference.

Robert Hayden: Selected Poems - Beauty and Brokenness

for Prof. Robert Stepto

based on Mountains (an inference of Mexico)

based on Butterfly Piece

based on October

based on Ice Storm

based on Homage to the Empress of the Blues

based on Those Winter Sundays

based on The Rag Man

based on III. Sojourner Truth (from "Stars")

invisibility (a poem)

sometimes

i can be 

invisible.

i don't usually tell people

but something about this spot

where i can speak to all of you and none of you

at once

makes me want to confess

that..

sometimes--

i become 

invisible.

it's a subtle transformation

sleight of hand 

or heart 

or face

but i have learned the art well

studied among the greats

and i am rarely confronted with a person

who can spot the trick.

it starts with you and me--

only two, never three.

and then set me free 

to work 

and i will have you knotted up in a conversation about yourself so quickly it passed right by the corner of your eye

i am the ninja

of questions;

listening--

 is my highest art.

i will feed you my curiosities and drink in your answers as they get longer and longer

more elaborate

more complex

being molded before my eyes, transforming, shaping themselves,

renewing--

you had no idea

your mind

is so--  alive.

i will search out what turns you on

what makes you talk for hours and hours

where your enthusiasm and spirit rest

and awaken them;

i will find out what's been on your mind, help you knot it up so you can see it all at once

and then untie it so you can get inside

i will make you feel alive--

like the center of the world

all the attention you deserve

all the love you forget

 to let yourself experience

you will be enveloped...

and i will believe it--

in those moments you will be all i see

the embodiment of beloved

a wonder of fascination and interest and attention.

-- did you catch it?

like i said,

sometimes

i can be

invisible.

but since i'm being honest,

don't be fooled by my words:

i'm not proud of this unnatural superpower of sorts

though i do take some kind of pride in it

the way people take refuge in last resorts

and take in evidence and reshape it to fit what we already believe

and rearrange the truth so we can all stay in denial

and convince ourselves that things are all right--

-- for a while

but the truth

is that invisibility

is my last resort kind of love, just a cover,

a way to hide...

because if you forget i'm there

you might never ask me to share

you might never have to see me

confused,

panicking,

tongue-tied

-- and honestly,

i don't really trust you with my knots

do you really have the patience and curiosity and gentleness they need

to be untied?

and the truth is that my soul sometimes screams at me

for my silent, engaged face,

for my not interrupting to remind you

that you asked me a question 30 minutes ago...

and i really really wanted you 

to help me

figure out the answer

so i could give it to you...

present you with a piece of myself like a gift all wrapped up nicely with a bow tied on top

full of wonder and delight

so that you could enjoy me

just like i enjoy you.

but you lost sight of me

a long time ago,

because i was a bit too slow and still in knots you are too impatient to untie

so i quiet my soul,

instead,

and practice

invisiblity,

again.

i don't know what happens

or why,

and i don't blame you,

and if you feel tricked,

don't.

i am sure i am at fault--

to slip out of sight is cowardly

it is unfair to you...

but it's kind of addicting like smoking cigarettes--

--it gets easier and easier with every try;

i find myself doing it to my best friends

slowly vanishing before their eyes,

as they talk on

my own need to add my own thoughts gives way to a desperation to keep the conversation going

and i feel the molecules in myself evaporate

and somehow disappearance is easier than self-explanation.

and the truth is that

i hate

these games....

the truth is that

i desperately want to be known.

i want you all to see me.

i want you not to glance at me

 or to register and recognize

but to see me:

my eyes that change color, my oversized hips, my untameable hair, my many different smiles,

my quirks and my mannerisms

i want you to read the thoughts behind my eyes

to hear them word for word and knot for messy knot

I want to be able to just start a conversation

by telling you what's on my mind,

to share my journal entries

fearless

in the face of questions

and judgment

i don't know what to do with my mind

and the truth

is that sometimes i think i'm trapped inside...

but i think i'm starting to believe that if i let you

you could love this mind

you could sit with me and slowly pick apart every strand and run your fingers through my thoughts

in wonder

and we could take turns

and you could actually look at me and see

and be curious about me to no end

and you'll want to hear every story--

from my kindergarten boyfriend to my fourth grade boy drama,

from trying to fly in seventh grade to trying to drive in eleventh.

you'll know the lessons i learn each day

the amazement i have for blue skies, good songs, 

and the hundreds of unknown faces i pass

tracing my steps, from class to class,

you'll know what i pray about,

you'll know how much i care...

and then we'll both laugh,

and i'll discover myself stronger than i think

wittier

easier

and over the years

when we are looking back,

in the good humor given by many years of life,

i'll tell about my adventures with superpowers

back in the days 

when

--sometimes--

i could become

invisible.