The family of U.S. Army Private First Class John Landry Jr., his sister Britney (L), his mother Pamela (C) and his father John Landry Sr., stand together during burial ceremonies in Wilmington, Massachusetts, March 27, 2007. Landry Jr. was killed by a roadside bomb in REUTERS/Brian Snyder (UNITED STATES)
Aerialist
by Susan Maxwell
look the snow is like us,
tide-metal bell flung open
to ocean. No farther
says the chamber with trees
filigreed fast to its edges.
Coal-fat in winter, a prayer that burns
when inverted. Oh please
says the fire in the trees.
The story streams
from gull to gull,
each beak a clear carrier,
what happens nowhere
to be found there.
Nowhere to be found.
Overcast gull. Eyes flying
into the noise,
the lead silhouette.
6 comments:
for peace
for peace
Witness.
Between Here And Gone
by Mary Chapin Carpenter
Tonight, the moon came up, it was nearly full.
Way down here on earth, I could feel its pull.
The weight of gravity or just the lure of light,
Made me want to leave my only home tonight.
Yeah I'm just wondering how we know where we belong.
Is it in a photograph, or a dashboard poet's song?
Will I have missed my chance to right some ancient wrong,
Should I find myself between here and gone?
Now I could grab my keys and peel out in my truck,
With every saint on board bringing me their luck.
I could drive too fast, like a midnight thief,
As if there was a way to outrun the grief.
Yeah I'm just wondering how we know where we belong.
In a song that's left behind in a dream I couldn't wake from.
Could I have felt the brush of a soul that's passing on,
Somewhere in between here and gone?
Up above me, wayward angels, a blur of wings and grace.
One for courage, one for safety, one for just in case.
I thought a light went out, but now the candle shines.
I thought my tears wouldn't stop, then I dried my eyes.
And after all of this, the truth that holds me here,
Is that this emptiness is something not to fear.
Yeah, I'll keep wondering how we know where we belong,
After all the journeys made, and the journeys yet to come.
When I feel like giving up instead of going on,
Somewhere in between.
Yeah, I'm just wondering how we know where we belong.
Is it in the arc of the moon, leaving shadows on the lawn?
In the path of fireflies and a single bird at dawn,
Singing in between here and gone.
Coal-fat in winter, a prayer that burns when inverted. Oh please
says the fire in the trees.
For peace
I witness
peace.
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