| Poetry offerings from Deborah Finch |
BE IN IT
Saved. Can I be?
Nothing can be more like prison
than the hell of one's own thinking,
knowing one has failed to serve
the truths of one's identity.
Nothing to do but bury
the trauma of self-betrayal
in a hollow of deepening silence.
Where is the essential love,
soulful beat I yearn for?
Where is my personal Eden,
the peace, small place I belong?
"Say who you are - be seen",
he (who?) says, or is it she,
me, who reaches beyond you
while you hold me steady.
Spreading in the cerebral splendor
of dawn, your gift of knowledge
fills me, ignites black forests,
flaming a path into heaven.
Is that opening there in the distance
a new beginning for me?
Catch it, Soul, with your toe,
before the firs close over it.
Enter it, it's open, be in it. Be.
Letter From Greenland / My Daughter's Paint Brush
My Brother's Room / Bosque del Apache
Bay Bridge / Amanda