Holy in the Infinite


December 2014


Advent (Light the Last) (12.16.14)

Light one candle

in my expectation

in that solitary anticipation

of things to come.

In this season of waiting,

for you,

I turn my face

and my collar towards the cold

and walk the streets alone

as the world

hushes itself in dusk


Light another

To light the stove

To heat the knife

Ready to cut me

And all I really need

are bandages

to staunch the bleeding

from my throat

to drown the sounds

of our whispered murmurings

as we lose each other

in the night


Light one more

to hold the night

For I am in love with the moon

and she hides from me

always obscuring

half of her face

leaving me with nothing

but clouds at my fingertips

and the morning

always comes too soon


Light the last

For these last days

of my uncertainty

And I long to come home

to candles burning brightly

to banish shadows

and to know

that we are in the presence of angels

that solemn hush and flickering flames

and to light the last

for a light that lasts


Metaphor (11.25.2014)

I am simply a metaphor

for all you living things

for all you loving things

I am simply a metaphor

for you

I am the candles extinguished

And the shadows

cast by fire.

I am simply

the shadow of a child

curled by the grate of the furnace

with notebooks and lines

on unswept floors


I am simply a handful

of the clearest water

for dahlias

and lotus

And I am the droplets of water

that cling

to those deep pine trees

as you wake,


to run to the sunrise


I am simply the light

landing light

slanting and yellow

on the small table

by your window

I am the thirst

for the things

you never knew you needed

I am your stories

written with water

I am carved in stone

I am etched

in the palms of your hands


I am simply a stranger

to both of us

a lonely traveler

this was not my country of origin

Though I was born here

thirty years ago this day.

I am the rumble

of that evening train

in the distance

that bears you safely

to your memories


I am the grace

I am the gone

I am the going away

I am the golden leaves

that gather

on your path of least resistance

I am your scars

I am the parts of you

you may have forgotten

or lost along the way

I am simply a metaphor

for all you living things

for all you loving things

I am simply a metaphor

for you


Blog at

Up ↑