wind whips
flakes fleck
dark pine

leans shivers
shakes cold
grace pours

sky opens
soul bends




How punishing the silence,
a presence of its own, that
battens down the corners
of my soul, binds my heart
unto itself, steers me into
emptiness, sharpens stillness
to the point where I wait for
the smallest of sounds...
a pin to drop or a needle
to rise through the cotton
of my shirt, prick the darkness
like a bell, tolling, rolling,
ringing news.

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I had been taught
to love the light,
the way it crisps color,
casts shape in my
sight, throws
shadows like
dancers on the
wind. I had been
taught to love
the light and
despise darkness
as if it only harbored
sin. What did I know
about the way light
lies, leads me
to think I know
the path to tread.
Darkness should
be, I was told,
a thing to dread
but as it goes
I'm steadied in it,
stilled, sculpted
into a magnet for
sound, a silent
one who's wise
to wait,

More poetry at the High Calling: RAP: Nepotist's Delight

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Midnight's Gift

Tender is the night
that covers wounds
of day. Edges frayed

and split, now under
gleam of silver moon
do newer, softer seem.

Tender is the night
when stars do whisper
sing, and sparkle past

our pain, while Venus
steady shines and fawns
like velvet over chastened

skin. Tender is the night,
'bove broken world a-spin.

More poetry here: RAP: Christmas Lament