A Note Slid Under the Door
Some people don't know this;
A sound lowen than silence
begins out of the night that waits
lowen than silence, and the voice
descends finer than dust or moonlight
where people awake listen
beyond the dark, finer than
dust and mistake called life.
In that breath beyond silence
people awake hear this:
"it's the same if you die
or if you world is destroyed-
the world is here because
people found it, a faint
line low in sky, then
an island, or mainland, then
the place where you live.
Afterward, when you are gone,
the world wouldn't be there any more"
Some people don't know this.
Sometimes
When they criticize you how do you hold your wings?
I hold mine out and down, descent a little, then more.
Cool air comes. Nobody knows cares how long I descend,
and the way my eyes close makes me disappear.
They have their sky again. So thin life I have,
scribbling dust when I turn, trailing as if to follow
sometimes inside the earth, sometimes beyond this place.
If I accept what comes, another sky is there,
My serious face bends to ground, the dust, the lowered wings.
Silver Star
To be a mountain you have to climb alone
and accept all that rain and snow. You have to look
far away when evening comes. If a forest
grows, you care; you stand leaning against
the wind, waiting for someone with faith enough
to ask you to move. Great stones will tumble
against each other and gouge your side. A storm
will live somewhere in your canyons hoarding its lightning.
If you are lucky, people will give your dignified
name and bring crowds to admire how sturdy you are,
how long can you hold still for the camera. And some time,
they say, if you long last enough you will head God;
a voice will roll down from the sky and all your patience
will be rewarded. The whole world will hear it: "Well Done."
I believe these are all by the same author. I took a creative writing class my sophomore year of high school and I really liked poetry by him. I jot them down, but didn't note down his name...
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