so the angel Gabriel kept his word and hid his face for my own good he spoke things that I couldn’t understand I was filled with sparks and my joints began to burn and the sky above the interstate was a needlepoint of my life and I could finally see how eternity was not the same thing as forever but rather an all-at-onceness which really makes time a kind of grace that protects us from something like the expanse of the sky or the reality of such a feeling in a vast field the universe falling around me like a veil and then lifted
I listen from the other room as slow bells ring, as you take each glass from the water washing it with the soapy canary yellow dishrag that your mother knitted for us last Christmas. And though I can't see your hands I can hear the wetness like the sound of fingers on a fogged car window, thinking about how there is a certain beauty to the atonal, a certain human quality to the arrhythmic. Like the trees outside our bedroom which grow thirty branches in every direction, or the clouds that move above them in no particular pattern. Yet each and every summer I will hear the sounds of small birds just before dawn and later see the erratic transmissions of lightning bugs. And so it is here, in this atmosphere. We wake up, we begin to push the unseen weight, we shift the glory, we do the dishes. And though the grand rhythm is not of our choosing, it seems to be our creaturely duty to show what this living sounds like when the beat is missed or even remains unheard. This is our rage and our subtle acknowledgment that we do not feel alone as much as abandoned.
Jesus lights a fire on the shore and waits for the thin blue dawn. Time folds like a piece of paper. Time reaches its end and everything keeps going. Boats rise and fall like lightning in the distance.
I remember how the trees were covered with sirens that year like birds flying like birds, and how we tried to lift one onto a stick. It was June and I was in love. We were below the northern lights in my memory
water was evaporating everywhere around us the heat was filling the air with mist. But of course I recognize everything after the fact. Jesus waits for his friends on the beach. The ground I’m sure was littered with shells.
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