I’m working on Vol. II of JUST PASSING THROUGH, and here is a poem that will be included:
THE HOLY PRESENT
God does not wear a heavy cloak
concealing his illuminations,
He is in the world, a shaft of light
cutting through our fatal talk
of dark and cumbersome sin.
He brings the faint violet to Spring radiance,
an almost-forgotten smallness
growing in the graveyard,
starlings scattering in leafless trees,
people walking among gray tombstones,
chatting briefly of one history or another,
talking about each infidelity,
about how God is with the dead now
in the other world, behind the curtain,
but He has never worn a long cloak,
does not hide his illuminations.
Nuthatch and white daffodil suffer the cold
vines overcome quiet graves,
knowing He is here, Gracious Light
watching His own silent handiwork –
snowfall on the mountain,
now, here, now.