The Delirious Archer
This is the story of the delirious archer who could shoot in a state no one would say was sober yet he hit the…
From the soft rope we are
from the jagged tear in a canvas we are
from the wrecked and twisted bicycle we are
from the lengthy shadow of a lost world we are
from flickers at the edge of a dark wood we are
from an echoing empty stadium at midnight we are
from crumbs left for birds on a windowsill we are
from the signal sent from a ship’s fo’c’sle we are
From land sighted and land ignored we are
from polished silver laid out perfectly we are
From a peak wreathed in roseate cloud we are
from a low-lying hamlet under brown smoke we are
From rows of burgeoning grape-trellises we are
from a sunny valley between green hills we are
From the spontaneous defenses of our sovereignty we are
from silence in the midst of chaos we are
From dust flakes falling down an endless chute we are
from an abrupt announcement at the table we are
From a door slammed and a door left open we are
From blue fog suddenly filling a deep canyon we are
From no one left in the meeting hall but us we are
from just one more face in the billowing crowd we are
From oft-blessed in abundance from we know not where we are
from bereft never knowingly visited by angels we are
From fervent supplications each dawn religiously we are
from the last whispered breath of prayer when we die we are
when even stillness stands still
right where we are
O God in Your Magnificence and Glory
Who moves us and moves in us
without Whom we would not be
whoever and wherever we are
Bring out from us what light You will
and quench us with every breath
in Your only existence
when no more than a shadow of a shadow of a shadow we are
Small flickering light in Your window we are
tiny birdsong of distant jubilant whistling
heard near and far
we are
9/5/2013 (from The Soul’s Home)