In her Room –

Now faith is the Substance of things hoped For,

the Evidence of things Unseen -- Hebrews 11

what bastion falls Now?

how can we revert

to the quiet-life under a tree

counting

falling leaves in autumn when all

around Us

are Shackles and Growth the

undermining

of Our Heresy? -- we

are the Proud-Idolaters basking in

our Hope we bring her

near

to obscure Our meaning she

will

underlie our Efforts with a supple Warmth

of Spirit and gentle Hand braceleted

with turquoise

and Silver; these yawning Chasms

unsettled

and awash with color wince in the earth

with an ungodly

instance

of Joy -- Who is

it that

scales this Mountain

to be close

to you? Can she feel your breath

pulsing

in her Ear? Will she shelter you

in her Embrace holding you

locked and Knowing below

thunderclouds

and skullcaps? What

thin rabbi

incanting homilies for those who

wish to listen hurries

through streets lined with incense

and Iron? In cobblestone moss

urges

its unction in half-light the gypsies

wandering

there, with Purpose, blackclad

and Angelic

before the Wind -- in her Room

is Solace a

suffusion of Color and Light, beaded

curtains swaying in light breezes the

trees

outside her Window sacred

and bowed a rain stick

by the bed her blanket blue and gold

with sure Satin sheets

a herald of

Impious hilarity a grinning Girl -- What have

we

to wash our Feet

with? she cried -- breaking the sea-surface

with her toe she lists leeward

guarded from

the bristling gale

and Content in her Own time --

*