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Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Weekend Retreat, Part 1 (A Poem)

In that place where the blue wind roared as it
Splashed up silent hills carved like lunar landscapes
Where sunlight drifted to the grass in shimmering gold petals
And the earth was flooded with aching, leafless trees
That made the mountains shiver as they sighed

We first sang with burning faces the camp song Jesus melodies
That bounced along buck-toothed like the cartoonish farmer
As the stony-faced collage of North Georgia youth
Picked their guitars whose wooden skins were rough
And we stared at the backs of each other’s necks
And we stared at the backs of each other’s necks
We watched tense-bodied defiant as sheep-eyed strangers
Spilled their souls out of their mouths naked wet glistening
We recoiled while others lowered their lips to it
Angelic thirsty ghostly happy horse lips feeding on each other’s souls
We then tried a taste and thought…not half bad
So our nervous lungs swallowed some overdue gulps of mountain air
And we dance-swayed with the rest and stomped our feet

The next morning our faces dappled with yellowpink sunrise
We met with frightened drowsy dreams icy in our skulls
But then hello earth warm hills cool sunbeams
And again we dance-swayed and stomped our feet
That day we smile-sang our Bible-fresh guitar tunes
We curled our arms around strange necks and shoulders
And we danced in a happy storm of whispered tears
Then they unwrapped their kind fingers from our ankles
And told us we were to have a conversation with God

Blank looks

Bowed heads

Breathless, eager shrugs


We went our separate ways wondering fearing hoping
Feeling silly as we crawled into our cozy grassy spiritual hiding places
I? I lay back among those murmuring blades of grass
And let the humming sky crash down on me weightless waterfall
Let the Sun’s steaming palms rest on me
Listened to the Wind ride through the trees like Paul Revere

Paul Revere Paul Revere Paul Revere Paul Revere

Are the British coming? I asked smiling sweetly crazy to myself

No, said the Wind

Is God? I asked half-hopeful smiling still sweetly crazy at the Wind

I wouldn’t know. I’m just passing through, said the Wind half-annoyed with furrowed brow

Then continued to rush musical and breathy and majestic over the hills and through those aching, leafless trees and off away and up and away