today is one of those sorts of days
the cumbersome times where
instead of the lightness of a bird,
my soul feels the weight of a stone
I'm some kind of rock that sits
lodged firmly, soundly covered,
it's mass buried entire but a tiny crown
and this just peeking out from mould
and this stony soul of mine, mostly hid,
gathers moss, lichen, pr'haps ferns around
as if a score of years spent hidden away
(watching the trees grow taller)
That's what I've felt today,
my time rolling past, if only in shades,
each slow excogitaion yielding
these tiny divisions of withdrawl
but these thoughts are too small for a stele!
and truly too modest for any monument.
today has been merely a pebble
there is no cairn above me, no standing stones.
I wish it were instead a day of flying
one where I'd cleave the sky with laughter,
not jaded cachinnation,
instead an absolution would pass my lips.
Pardon these days I have, Lord,
it's as if a flung stone took my spirit from the blue
and gneiss and gravel lay me low, broken.
these days I need thee near to me
Help me, oh God of the skies
(and of the dirt and stones too, for that matter)
bid this sepulcher door roll open
call to my bones and sinews to arise!
unbind these wrappings, loose my face,
and clear my hands, and my limbs.
anoint my head with thy perfume and oil
brush away these stones from my eyes.
Steer my steps, and reassure my feet
with your words. let me mount the sky
rebirth'ed, light footed, renewed,
that my sun bright soul part the heavens with a hymn!