Why must I know what day it is in order to prove that I am cognizant?
Time is a shape shifting chameleon
Once a sundial or a watch of the night
Now it monitors the heart
Attempts to forecast the rain
And makes us feel the limits of the box we cannot bust out of on our own
Meanwhile
Eternity, the Infinite
Has already won.
You tell yourself it will do no good
To acknowledge the child who floated in the beads of the ultrasound or the mantras of the obstetrical attending—
It is for her best not to know
Or the terrible error in calculating
The time it takes to unpack and repack a Pilot
A truck, an Accord, a house, a life
You tell yourself
It would have happened by now
The Icarus Moment
The violent fall
When an ordinary man walks into light eternal
Only to become it
We will all be changed
Some moments last for all
Eternity
Sarah? He asks on the street by the Rucker library
I look bewildered. No, not Sarah
You look so much like her!
Dark? Pretty? Young?
We never met
But recently it has been happening again—over and over
So many times
In Spanish and in other tongues—
Fatima? Esperanza? Rachel?
Who are they now?
Grey! Rumpled! Doughy!
We are a sisterhood across decades and barricades
The Sarahs by the library of now
Beauty behind, light ahead
Dearest,
You remember better than I do the letter I once wrote to the justletsbefriendsboy.
Not like you—so far out of my league—worlds wake at the sound of your voice.
I want to squish your check sideways and demand your attention like the petulant but well-meaning child I am and love—
Grandma!! Look!
How does one grasp the attention of the Eternal Beloved?
Surprisingly easily because you love us so.
A really good listener
I want more like Christmas morning
Waiting for your voice
In the House,
Love.
The deep blue and slivery moon
And the bearded woman
Shave then
bathe their cats
Affix bowties to all
Retrieve each
shimmery dress from the closet of
Yesterday-today-forever
Inventory chores
Left
Undone in the house
In the ambiguous darkness just short of
Midnight
Matthew 25:13 KJV
[13] Watch therefore, for ye know neither the day nor the hour wherein the Son of man cometh.
In the event of an evacuation
Follow the flight attendants’ instructions
And leave everything behind
I try to gather traveling instructions for the “nice lady” I met at the coffee shop
Find those who sell the oil and stick with them closely until the bridegroom comes
Leave even your best robe behind
Be willing to sell all you have for the treasure in the field
Do all this for the least of these
Because narrow is the path to life (and few there are who will find it)
Call on the name of the Lord to be saved
If you don’t already seek and find him in
Ordinary wonders
Matthew 25:11-14 KJV
[11] Afterward came also the other virgins, saying, Lord, Lord, open to us. [12] But he answered and said, Verily I say unto you, I know you not. [13] Watch therefore, for ye know neither the day nor the hour wherein the Son of man cometh. [14] For the kingdom of heaven is as a man travelling into a far country, who called his own servants, and delivered unto them his goods.
She wore a soft, pink sweater (her sister bought) as though the cool chill of October could touch her anymore and the small group of people gathered at her ad hoc memorial are floating up as the sky darkens
The ashes and the pink sweater and the flash of inexplicable light get me again and again
I have to conjure some litany for this–
Sprite, fly
Luminesce
Alight upon yonder shore
Grief been here before–Target was closed and we drove
In my presbyopia I could not identify the man or his freaked out dog
Who can tell between Sirens and mermaids? They are both capable of artifice and the old-fashioned waterborne howl in
Such dark waters
I swim back to the day
The park
Beauty all around
And fast food wedding feast
Pregnant bride vomiting while
Someone took money from the medic’s bag
How did we drive back across that precipitous bridge?
All I can do is elide the best of you with
What will be
What must and shall
Be.
John 2:5 KJV
[5] His mother saith unto the servants, Whatsoever he saith unto you, do it .
When Mary talks now on the Fisher-Price phone of loss, she speaks with a five year old’s falsetto. She is breezy, upbeat even, and we exchange pleasantries through the medium of her daughter’s voice.
Mary, the girls have your laugh, I try to tell her before the line cuts off. Mary, I always wanted to be your real mom, I tell her before the line clicks off. Mary, that last day haunts me. The girls talk as though you still have the giant carnival unicorn, as though you tucked it under your arm and carried it right through
The earth will soon dissolve like snow/The sun forebear to shine/But God who called me here below/will be forever mine
Carrying Light 