I breathed in hope and exhaled your name,
I closed my eyes and imagined your face;
I reached out and touched his garment
and hoped that his power would explode in my screams
in those dark moments when I see your tears
and your body shakes with doubts and fears.
I breathe in hope and exhale your name
I reach out and stroke his cheek
and catch the drop that escapes his eye,
and when he leans over, to my ear, I understand;
he breathes in promise and whispers your name.
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2 comments:
Dan,
I've always loved going to pray in the "Liturgical Chpael" (I think it is named something else now) chapel when I'm on campus. I've had a lot of powerful experiences there with many different friends-anyhow, I was thinking about this because in your poem you talk about touching "his garment"-this reminds me of the icon of Jesus that they have in the chapel, the large one that is hanging right in front of the kneeling bench. I've often kneeled there, and while kneeling, reached up to touch the "him" of the garment that the Christ icon is wearing. This has always been a powerful exercise in grounding my prayers for healing by connecting with that icon. At any rate, just a thought about what your poem stirred in my memory and imagination.
Dan,
I am reading a book called Anger by Thich Nhat Hanh. He talks about breathing and how that can reconnect our mind and body in a way that centers us. Your words attest to some mindful breathing on your part. I am glad you posted this.
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