Kathy Pon
Begin Again
We are tender
at dawn, shadowed bodies
giving way to the blue hour.
Our soul pips at hardshell
that coats us in safety, finds light
and conviction to begin again.
Haven’t we prayed this before, asked
for the feeling to last, the wordless
spaces erasing yesterday’s losses?
Unconfined, we lightly climb
the carousel, confident today’s ponies
traveling at the speed of circles
will leap higher, help us
snatch all the brass dreams
we chase. But distraction carves
into intention, and a waning afternoon
demands accounting. No finish line
yet; but the energy resembles
how we began. And damn,
we forgot again
to bring along the songbirds.
Conversion
(for Dad)
I want to tell you of rebirth
after my break-up with
religion. A different church—
the ordinary that welcomes
morning like mist on an oat field,
its secular celebration
of mundane to holy. How horizon
knits to earth, breeze caresses
my face, grace fills me
like a sacrament. I worship
weight of my grandbaby folding
herself onto my chest,
feel a Higher Power
in my own heart brimming
with unspeakable love,
finding plentitude to give
myself away. As in love
the stranger, the struggle. Hold out
for hope, even as clouds hover.
Threads of light find me
like a gospel of second chance
saying attend to thistles of subtlety.
Let time and space reveal
the sacred, ease
this spiritual spinning.
I have found my gentle landing,
footing you might recognize.
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