Photo: Brian Federle, “Night”, 2014
the
beat
steady;
constant hum,
music of days to
night fading; the right note, only
song you know; sum of your days, falling, falling to night.
so
go
to the
center, to
the black place to wait
for Him. Don’t call out in fear for
there’s nobody there but you and He, so simply be
and
hear
how His song
fills your darkness with
light; smile at Him, your familiar
bright friend, and no longer will you fear your emptiness.
(23 Dec 2013)
When you left us
I saw how the clouds parted,
rent curtains,
as you cleared earth’s
drossy smear,
and passed into a heaven
bright beyond
my wildest imagining.
Bereft, fearful, we
shut tight the door
against wolves’ howling
and waited for you
to keep your promise.
At first it was a whisper,
the sea-ward wind
prying loose our
weak walls,
but soon the song rose, until
its power overwhelmed us
with chords of faith,
and, afire at last,
we spoke!
Dawn fires
the cold roses
one-
at-
a-time,
when, with
planetary urge,
all explode to
vermillion
conflagration.
Then the cherry tree,
plain in
drab leaf,
erupts into
emerald
glory,
and high
from the bright rooftop
the mourning-dove
sings
his low, plaintive
song of
love.
Cold winds,
the sharp edge
of winter — hard
and solid and blue —
fires dull fields to green
as slate-grey trees
their secret lives
reveal.
It flows
over highways
dripping down
lamp-posts
through gutters,
pounding
storm drains,
filling
narrow lanes,
past dark houses,
past high-tension
wires, driving
through
constraining fence,
unfettered
it fills
the green hills
and rolls
through folding slough, past
low bridge and causeway,
ever lower
down to Suisun Bay,
unstoppable
like a swimmer’s blood
pulsing through throbbing vein,
reaching for gate of gold
to break free,
to become
one with
One.
(19 April 2011)
Photo Brian Federle: Mendocino Sundial 2016
falling sun, life swarming
in the liquid light
as I gaze west, through trees,
over houses, over slatted-fence,
towards the waiting, unseen sea.
a foraging bird drops to my mown lawn
(taking note of my still form)
and pecks out her meal…and flies away.
My apple-tree bends towards heaven
new leaves unfolding;
surely it will be leaf-full by Easter!
so I’ll wait for the world to turn
yet another slight degree, for the lines
of golden light to lengthen towards me
and then end in gentle night.
Gazing into bright desert space
we see endless highways, distant
mountains we never reach,
sharp hills, steep cliffs
receding
as we move closer,
closer,
to the pacing sun,
creasing dark canyons,
casting amber light
into the gauzy sky —
yet our dark dreams trouble
the faint stars; the reeling planets
throw wide nets over
our haunted, lost souls
when, morning at last,
we begin again,
pursuing the tumbling edge
of this turning globe
believing that
it will never end, will never
end,
will never
end.
Photo: Brian Federle, Sun in Clouds, Hawaii 2016Clearing the tallest
eve of the big house,
the sun overwhelms.
Then the mockingbird chants
intricate psalms —
All praise to the
lord of the sky
and with glory
fill the land!
I gaze
through the undergrowth
into deeper woods.
Redwoods rise,
limbs link tree
to brother tree,
climbing high
to the bright
coastal fog.
Walking out
I see the three,
still as lawn ornaments,
frozen in motion,
stunned
by my sudden form.
They stand and gaze
and reassured
by my stasis,
at last with lazy gait
back they move
into the nodding
trees.
(3 May 2016)
….contemplation is simply the “experience” …. of God in a luminous darkness which is the perfection of faith illuminating our inmost self….. a flash of the lightning of divinity piercing the darkness of nothingness and sin. Not something general and abstract, but something, on the contrary, as concrete, particular, and “existential” as it can possibly be. It is the confrontation of man with his God… Thomas Merton, The Inner Experience: Notes on Contemplation
+
In my darkness I seek you
through deep caverns I run;
my dying flesh yearns for
your fierce, piercing love.
Through darkness I see
you’re glowing so bright,
but always receding,
deeper than night.
I fear that I’ll falter,
betrayed by frail will
when softly you whisper
“my child, just be still.”
poems 