Wednesday, April 02, 2014

Glass House

listen to this poem

author’s note:

A companion poem to the last one posted.


I can still see the light
beaming out
from all the windows
of your glass house--

the shelter resting now
faraway on gentle waters
after many tumultuous seas
with their groans and heaves,
their trajectories
and plunging troughs
failed to crush
your glass house.

As before,
the panes reveal only your sun.

But I remember when
you allowed me to see
the multitude, the magnitude
of what went on behind
those bright walls--

so much tough cleaning,
but also knitting and skilled carpentry:
you showed me how we build--
you always had some concoction
baking in a kiln.

Maybe you’re still shoveling ash:
  we all collect ash--we can’t help but.

I just hope you don’t
have to work as hard
as you did back then--

though many believed
your equanimity
was a natural gift
you let me know
how you struggled:

balance is never a given
even for stable houseboats.

Here's one last credit:
you presented
your great accomplishment
in order to help me
with my own process
and not to brag.

I must confess,
sometimes I like to pretend
I'm witnessing my own reflection
when I behold
your blazing windows

but No!--
I’m far from being
so clean, so clear:
I have much work left--
too much, or nearly so.

And so,
I'd can only ponder
your silent edifice
for a few moments:
my imperative compels me
to row away to further duty

but I leave satisfied, knowing
how the peace you found
continues to smooth the waters--
to spread, to expand
in all directions--out
from your glass house...

© 2014, Michael R. Patton
Glorious Tedious

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