Subj : [CHRISTIA] new poetry, "A Star Will Come"
To   : Practical Christian Life
From : Mark
Date : Sun Jun 14 2020 12:57:45

From: lamppoet@CENTURYTEL.NET (Mark)

I have too many friend, not enough intimates.

 

"A Star Will Come"

 

("I see someone who will come someday, someone who will come, but not soon.
A star will come from Jacob; a ruler will rise from Israel." Numbers 24:17a)

 

I have lost friends along the way like crumbs falling off
a white chocolate scone. Some are buried by time,
faces fading from memories. The first time ever I
saw your face
is how we listened to each other's' movement. But,
the last time ever I
saw your face
we ate burgers at Denny's and talked shop.
Some are time's possession.

 

Some have dropped at latest weakness, with each
new mistake I make
new heartbreak unwraps the comfort
of ageless friends who now are better than
I ever was. I have no defense, what they have heard
(or observed) is probably true. Although, one thing
I would note,
that what they hear is not
all the truth.
Some are my transgressions.

 

Some I have left in other states, though
part of the same Union,
too many state lines make for loss of breath
for people at our age. The hurdles have grown,
the route is longer. So from Baltimore to Minneapolis,
Chicago to Dallas, Sacramento mostly and 
the East Bay I love; I'm in a corner that no one
passes through on the way to another.
Some are my vacations.

 

Some have left me like children turning over a rock
lying atop nearly melted ground; and having found
ugly bugs, earthworms and slimy colonies of
we-should-have-known, and having thrown the
stone in disgust at my feet, discuss my biography
like book clubs chewing through chapters.
Some are my repentance.

 

Some new have entered my breakfast routine,
though I am slow to open anything beneath my 
wrinkling skin.
I carry my failures where no one can see,
but believe me, they are my closest companions
(when I know they shouldn't be)

 

I cannot wait for someone to come,
a star on the horizon, a scepter over my scars,
when my sins and your sins,
my memory and your assertions

 

Are the zero-sum of the next step,
while listening to some vinyl like we used to do
all summer.

 

 

Listening,

mark p.

lamppoet@centurytel.net

 

Mark's Blog

 



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