He wears a white robe;
he sits, eyes closed,
lips moving. I don’t
disturb him but he
speaks my name aloud.
I sit in a dark room
bare of furnishings
except for my chair;
the walls are stucco,
cool white to touch. No
windows; a light
from another room
reflects softly
through a doorway.
I have the impression
that it’s early afternoon.
I speak his name aloud.
Over at Faith Barista, Bonnie Gray is hosting a blog carnival on faith. This week’s prompt is “finding my voice.” I’m not sure if I’ve found my voice or not, but this poem is what came to mind as I considered the prompt. To see more posts submitted, please visit Faith Barista.
What you have found is very powerfully expressed in this poem.
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful Glynn : ) I'd say you're finding your voice quite well. I love the power of "His name." And being alone, just a chair. But that's what I heard, it may have different meanings to others. That's how good this writing is. Thanks for sharing this.
ReplyDeleteI read it twice. That's a great sign of you finding your voice if I read something twice. ;-)
ReplyDeleteAnd I love the photo too. Excellent.
Beautiful!
ReplyDeleteQuite evocative.
ReplyDeletewords
ReplyDeletereflect
through a doorway
a moving
impression
of light
upon closed eyes
Glynn, you are a very interesting writer indeed. Your prose is straight, clear, witty, HILARIOUSLY colored with humor, nostalgic and lyrical.
ReplyDeleteBut, your poetry... Glynn, your soul is mysterious, beautiful, moving and holds drama.
I wonder which voice is the one you enjoy writing in most. I think I know you're answer... :)
Thank you for pouring a lifetime of voice into the jams every week.
stumbled on your blog while looking for an image of a dark room with a chair... the same image I saw in a dream. love this. so delicate and powerful at the same time.
ReplyDelete