branch

poetarc.branch

 

 

 

 

 

“Split the wood, and I am there.
Raise this stone, you all will find me.”

– Jesus (attr., Gospel of Thomas, 77)

 

line to walk me out this morning,
cut against a clouded ridge,
climb above a shrouded village,
lead beyond the sheltered world.

branches shifting as I clamber
what of winter tracks remain,
into darking limbs and mountain,
light to splinter broken rail.

hardwood glazing eyes run dim,
yet demanding here be seen,
harden me against these briars,
arcuate your twisting vine.

pray your Spirit shawl the morning,
blessing weather wooden ties,
splitting gnarled, your grain to witness,
light revealing embered trail.

 

 

 

 

 

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