What was said

This is what Jesus said
to the deaf man: Ephphatha.

Be opened. This is what Jesus said.

This is what a painter said of love:
he said, Love is paying attention.
This is what the painter said.

Another, I forget who, said,
You can trust the present. That
is what she said. And as for faith,
one says, It is a verb, another says,

It is resting in the gamble, while for another
it is traveling miles and days
to that great and final lion
to be consumed — what an honor! —
consumed to the very bones.

Teddy Macker, This World, 2015

Ephphatha: http://biblehub.com/topical/e/ephphatha.htm

Man at the End of Something

Admit the day’s veering toward something
else, the tiny flag of your heart inverted.
Admit the pause between words, wearing
away at the febrile. Admit jealousy, the want
for what you have if you didn’t have it.
Admit hunger. And an absence of which
you are far too aware. Admit the necessity
of breathing, the sound of several thousand
humming birds in torpor, ruby throats
pinched against their breasts. Admit sorrow,
which is the only heirloom that lasts.

Admit the deity, hallowed be his hollow
name. Admit change, but not so much
its progress or lack thereof cannot be seen.
Admit intrigue. Admit hangnail. Admit lovely,
how it casually and often passes you by.
Fail, because you won’t find respite.
Recourse, only as an occupation for the hands.
Reject delicate because you have walked
on glass for reasons. Admit deduction,
how easy it was to itemize. Then possibility,
but limit it to the aroma of an orchid, wilting.

John Hogan

Ritual

Started writing again here (http://whiletheworldisgoingplaces.blogspot.in). Thanks to the giant silk cotton tree, its lessons.

Notes from a Ritual: http://whiletheworldisgoingplaces.blogspot.in/search/label/Notes_from_a_Ritual