Lying in the grass in the meadow across from my home in South Jersey, I began praying for the three-year-old boy who was found dead here in October last year.
I find myself visiting his memorial several times a week, trying to find peace around such a horrifying incident.
Words begin forming as my body surrenders to the frozen earth. This is the second poem in recent months I credit to little Brendan.
As convulsive tears warmly melt down my cheeks, I know his spirit somehow feeds my soul with the gift of a creative outlet. Its message relays God’s deep, abiding love for us—a relationship with a sacred space within. A trinitarian mind, body, spirit love affair.
~
Beloved Courtesan
gathering dissonant grief
as if in bridal bouquet
gallantly tossed
flick of wrist
into roar of nomad locomotive,
chugging
carting away
sorrow’s enduring remnants
retreating
heaven’s consort’s bosom
womblike embrace
for mortal, earthen vessel
lush, grassy tendrils tickle
cheeks
birthing
cherished smiles
all the while
above
alluring petitions
ascension
up up up
nuptials
amidst gaggles of geese
beholders of the vow
in cloudless, weightless
skies
solidity awakening vibration
a conjugal melding
unifying
simply softly slowing
an exquisite
betrothal
as above so below
blend me
until inquiry ceases
~
Relephant read:
Sit With Me in the “I Don’t Know.”
~
Author: Anita Grace Brown
Apprentice Editor: Terry Price; Editor: Khara-Jade Warren
Image: lauragrafie./ Flickr
~
Read 0 comments and reply