AFTER THE STAMPEDE

when our galloping is done,
all the running horses home,
stabled safely in the barn,
to the hay loft let us climb
sleeping riding as we rode
blanketed by night
from prancing hoofs
dancing stars in silent dreams
above where bareback,
all day long,
we urged our horses on;

now below, they shift
on sweated heavy haunches,
snuffle, stamp;

snuggled here, we are secure,
dropped from braided harness
of a perfect leather day,
from dawn to the mellow
dimming of the oil lamp.


by c van gorkom

Now

A medieval junco
in his homespun brown jersey,
black cowl,
squats in my riverside
mountain bird feeder,
with yellow beak
pecks at seeds
I put there yesterday.

Intent on his little life,
does he philosophize,
ruminate as I do
about past and future,
the meaning of it all?

As my eyes fill with him,
he grows fat
on cracked corn.


by c van gorkom

By Words

We take words,
break them like glass,
take each slicing shard
rim it with copper
fold it by hand
into a channel
cover edges, join them,
weld them with molten lead,

make from this a window
or a vase,
look out through it
at the world,
slabs of trees,
slathers of grassy hills
a precarious clastle
frowning down,

or make from this leaded glass
a vase for a rose

We look out at the world,
or inward at the flower,
the world mended,
flower prisoned broken
in a cage of glass,
copper, lead
tangled metal webs

We take words,
break them like stones,
build a casement
for our mended window,
build an altar
for our mended vase
of broken flower

We break words,
grind them fine for mortor,
build a church for our window,
for the vase, an altar

We take words,
light a fire for a candle,
gather words
of no other use
and kneel,
offer them in thanksgiving
and repentence and praise

perhaps by words
we may find mercy.


by c van gorkom

BRAIDED

The braid is fibers twisted first
each strand stripped
from a living tree of experience
varnished in blood
dried and twisted
one with one;

a relationship,
a death, a year,
a plunge into poverty
from affluence and plenty
another strip from the tree
another effigy
twisting in the wind

and from those strands
a single strand,
you and I and God
bloody, crucified
twisted and dried
strong and sinuey
as the cable that drags
the silver moon
through furrowed mud
of day until dusk
to rise again.

now we are three-fold
strong as the rope
that binds the gates of hell,
now we are braided
rugged and well
by hands that sculpted mountains
carved a window
in eternity
and tends the fallen sparrow

and so we have risen
with our scars
from the curse that bound us
do the work of living
that is ours,
giving our receiving
marching with the sacred throng
around the stars.


by c van gorkom