translated celebration

Tonight for poetics at d’Verse, Laura offers translations of poems by non-English poets for us to interpret and respond with a poem of our own…


 

Anniversary

And we go on and on,
neither sleeping nor awake,
towards the meeting, unaware
that we are already there. 

That the silence is perfect,
and that the flesh is gone.
The call still is not heard
nor does the Caller reveal his face.

 But perhaps this might be
oh, my love, the gift
of the eternal Face without gestures
and of the kingdom without form! 

by Gabriela Mistral (1889-1957) – the pen name of Lucila Godoy Alcayaga, was Chilean and the first Spanish American author to receive the Nobel Prize in literature.

 

50th anniversary

oh, my dear,
we would have
celebrated fifty years
together,
if still awake
but here we lie,
on and on
yet
side by side
asleep in
perfect benighted
silence
waiting for day
when our Maker calls
us each by
name
new flesh restored
reuniting with spirit
to fully
savor
the gift revealed
of an eternal kingdom:
to see
face to Face!

 

by lynn__ American poet 1959 –

 

who has ears to hear…

 

Hell may

assault ears with

unearthly shrieks of

self-condemned rebels

tortured by vicious demons,

an infernal crackling

of eternal fire,

but worse yet

will be the

echoing miseries of sin,

utter absence of love,

awful silence of God.

can i pray for you?

 

Prayer is practicing the quiet presence of God.  It is crawling up into the lap of our abba – daddy and crying to hear him whisper comfort in our ear as he wraps us in his strong, everlasting arms.  Prayer is communion, connection, conversation; our privilege as children since Jesus opened door.  It may be a mighty wrestling, his will bending ours to grant a greater blessing than we can imagine.  In amazing love and grace, God invites us to pray and he initiates our prayers.  He wants us to come to him. In his presence, our brokenness begins to heal, our emptiness to fill. Prayer is relationship, not religion;  desire, not duty.  It is our lifeline; vital as breathing, inhale – exhale.  If we cannot pray?  Jesus intercedes, the Spirit groans and the family of God lifts us up, before his throne.

 

listen in silence

dew refreshes, green renews

spring rain for the soul

desert wandering

 

unnerving silence

bleached bones exposed upon sand

lone vulture circles

 

inviting silence

milky way stars spilled on sky

holiness hovers

 


My scribbles in the sand on “inviting silence” theme at CDHK today.

sound of silence

 

drop pair of cold titanium frames 

on fresh powder in front of feet;

thrust lightweight  poles within reach,

stuck together upright in deep fluff.

flex body forward in layered clothing,

balance on one leg, insert opposite boot,

clicking two buckle mechanisms till tight;

repeat; grip pole handles with fat mittens.

 

nippy south wind awakens indoor face,

pricks exposed cheeks below nordic cap,

breath quickly dampening fuzzy scarf.

turn deliberately toward western grove;

reaching forward, outward with poles to

navigate between scruffy garden shrubs,

crampons biting to grip frozen ridges

of tilled earth underneath winter cloak.

 

tramping unique imprint on landscape,

poles squeak slightly as baskets turn

when piercing frozen drift, snowshoes

crunch if climbing crusty layers of base.

brush past rustling spruce, spill snow;

circumvent unexpected fallen branch to

continue making trail: shush-shush-shush

pause, listen to palpable sound of silence.

_____________________

*written for d’verse “blind poet” prompt:

while i wouldn’t want to snowshoe blindfolded,

i did attempt to write this using other senses