gravid planet
gleaming white egg
glowing
trembling
tension of deliverance
the shell, the woven bones of our dead
the fabric of eternity
robes of resurrection
stand on the mountain
come see high places made low
(vapid hopes
twisted expectations
arrogant plans
presumptuous intentions)
from such dreams we will awake
but, come stand on the mountain
see low places made high
yield pride for eagle’s eyes
scan the valley closely
there in beds of quiet streams
lay gems of dreams to live by
4 Comments
October 17, 2008 at 11:49 pm
I’ve always liked the way this pow-em makes me feel. I tried like eight times to put it into words. The best I have is a drum roll (mostly at the beginning though.) And not so much of a drum roll, but some kind of methodical drum “DUM DUM DE DUM”. This might not make sense.
I’m glad you like it, Rachel.
October 22, 2008 at 11:26 pm
This one reminds me of being quite little. On your shoulders, everything else so far away. Of being praised for my ‘eagles eyes’ ability to spot things, places, animals, etc.
Also, of a time I was sitting on the porch and discovered that binoculars also work like a microscope and put them up to every little thing… egg shells included.
Vibrant. Vivid. Excellent.
Like meeting the Who that Horton heard!
April 21, 2009 at 7:14 pm
Oh wow, this is so beautiful that it gave me shivers — such wisdom throughout, and in the last lines, POW. I feel that revelation every time I spend time in the mountains.
April 21, 2009 at 8:36 pm
Bless your heart. Thanks, Thomma Lyn.
Since Lillian Lauterbach gave me permission to use her photo as the current header image, I’ve been considering which poems to repost at the top of the page for combined effect. Woven Bones is one of my early choices. I’m very pleased that it spoke to you.