Tides of Geese

Tides of Geese

(“But I, the Lord, will protect you, and you will not be handed over to the people you are afraid of.” Jeremiah 39:17)

I am afraid my tears have been misquoted,
my silence has been soaked in
new translations before the ink runs.
But no matter, I cannot interpret the
chaos that wanders in and out of me.

Because we do not comprehend the
quarter tones that descend from Tibetan hills
they pass like granite beyond our ears and into the
western fields where
flocks of geese land to lunch. We walk by
and do not notice the way they occupy the open space
as if they own it.

They were like the seafoam-on-sand that displaced
my toes,
then fills the depressions left behind.
I step toward them, they turn and move as one,
safely several feet from me, then, as I pass,
turn and take their positions again.
They are the tide, and I am the anti-moon.

Their feet and mine are glued to the same earth.
The heavy air coats us all, dew-like just outside of
the winter’s grasp.

When I said I was afraid, I did not mean I shiver.
But to explain my tears is like spinning tales of
Greek tragedy so dense you would yawn and look for
an exit from my meander. You would tip your hat,
take your leave, and wander to see if the geese have
yet mounted the winds.
And I am left with untold stories. I would strip them
bare,
though,
unwinding the embellishments and leaving nothing but
a storyline so familiar that the denouement is discerned from the
first staccato vowel.

Christ is all around me.
He is around you too.
I am not the middle.
And neither are you.

Christ is all around us,
In the tears, songs and dust.
We are not the ending.
The beginning is trust.

Safer Together on the Sand

Safer Together on the Sand

The tides roll in and out
so regularly
that we can set the days by them.
But every low tide surprises you,
exposes you and leaves you
uncovered on the helpless shore.
You shiver every time.

You have learned to shelter in a
nearby cave, rolling a stone
to hide inside for half the day.
The surf is drowned out within
the limestone fortress.

I know where to find you.
I watched you once on the sand
before we ever met.
I marveled at your beauty and
wept as you ran away. I did not know
what it was you feared;
I only wanted to sit on the beach with you
until the tide came back in.

I started going to the same beach
each day to wonder at your beauty
and to know the secret that made you hide
(If I had only shone brighter, would you have
blossomed and
trusted me with your hidden heart?)

I walked past the pulpy seaweed, through
the coastal grasses to the mouth of the cave
gagged by a stone.

I did not know your name yet,
but I guessed it would sound like moonlight.
I wanted to breathe that name out loud,
but had to knock on the stone and
say “hey”.
I heard barely the sigh that wanted to
be alone.

I went back every day at the same time
and finally heard the tears drop just inside.
And I knew you still wanted to be alone.
I asked if I could remove the stone.
You preferred that I didn’t.

So, I promise to never try to pry it open.
But if, one day, you nudge it open,
only an inch…

Then I would still stay silent and
send only sunshine and golden love
through the crack you have opened.

And when I find you on the beach, frightened
but stronger,
I would ask your name and take it
as my necessary breath.

I would ask only for this;

That I could meet you here on the beach
every day to walk the sand together.
We would walk past the cave each day,
and we would keep on walking.

We are safer together on the sand
than alone in a soundless cave.