Saturday, December 1, 2012

The Void


The Void touched everything  
with two cold hands: By its first brush,
light rushed away and icicles appeared
in the place of leaves,
but with the second stroke, the other hand
restored the piercing clarity of sun
reflected in a thousand dripping things.

And, Darling, all the shining drops I thought I knew in you
were mirrors of the tidal joys to come.

The Void, that beast—he has a hunger and a gift,
like every living thing.
So while he seeks our bones, let’s not pretend
our teeth are made of softer stuff; let’s grab instead
the certainty of dawn tied to his tail, and sing.

For, Darling, all the shining drops I thought I knew in you
were mirrors of the tidal joys to come.

The Void swims slick and dim in greying depths
just feet beyond the shallows where our white toes touched
the sand, transparent to these anxious eyes,
as we held sweaty hands.
Before he came to meet us (or was it we
that waded in to him?) I thought, though as I speak the words
the thought seems very strange, that his whole home,
two thirds of this strange earth, was out of reach
of God.

Now that the Void has come—a terror,
but a servant, too—I recognize that you,
though in his arms or mine, are never lost,
because the Lord can see your glory clear
in water, fire, and earth as well as air, His sight unbound
by limits of the eye
and of the clock’s cold hanging hands, and yes,

yes, Darling, all the shining drops I thought I knew in you
are mirrors of the tidal joys to come.