Monday, February 6, 2012

Cleansing Our Bibles

At the witching time I wake to find
what survived the day in fading dreams
that throw their shadows into distant light.

I eat nothing so that the pit in my stomach
can work its way into walk and talk
for my trip across the tight rope sky.

At the Jiffy Lube, a man with few teeth and a large smile
tells me he works 8 hours 7 days a week.
He's glad for Thanksgiving to come.

Once, at a laundromat, I accepted change from hands
with fingers cracked raw by chemicals.
He saw my horror and sighed.

If only I were stone I could endure not seeing.
If only I were a tree I'd know how to be.

The cold and bitter wind unweaves
a prayer's hem from my soul.
Let's write our own bibles,

revealing ourselves
to ourselves. We'll wash up clean
and remember to seek and erase the memory.

(c) copyright 2012 Charles David Miller. All rights reserved.

17 comments:

  1. dang...tight write charles.. the man with the fingers cracked raw by chemicals ...i felt the pain...but not only the outside but the inside pain as well..sometimes it's hard to stand in the bitter and cold wind of what we see around us... tight closure as well

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  2. dude...very nice...lets write our own bibles revealing ourselves to ourselves...that is a profound thought...and set up well by the run in with the man...and your verses previous...top shelf stuff man...

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  3. I love these lines best ~ beautiful ~

    If only I were stone I could endure not seeing.
    If only I were a tree I'd know how to be.

    The cold and bitter wind unweaves
    a prayer's hem from my soul.
    Let's write our own bibles,

    revealing ourselves

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  4. Charles! The dogma beats us down and makes us cower. Imagine if we were free to write our own! Judgement would have no place in mine, and the folks who tend to regard me as crazy for my free thinking ways would see my light and welcome it...rather than cower...oh, my mind swells with so much this wants me to say...but a book would be unleashed on your site! Whoops..already half way there! I will say, dear Poet...this is a favorite!

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  5. Well, we know we are in for it when we start that trip across a tight rope sky. And the poor man with the cracked skin and cracked soul as well, facing the man who would know how to act if he were a tree. Oh, Chazz...this is so beautifully painful and real...and writing our own bibles, revealing ourselves...gut truth here. A beautiful and meaningful write that resonates with this reader.

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  6. The cold and bitter wind unweaves
    a prayer's hem from my soul.
    Let's write our own bibles,

    revealing ourselves
    to ourselves.

    Beautifully written!

    @AudreyHowitt

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  7. To be a tree and know how to be...wow! If only... Thought provoking words!

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  8. Another deft spinning of word and image into something independent and more--the human dilemma, the whole construct exposed and questioned, and the pain leeching throughout. excellent piece, Charles.

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  9. This is really a lovely poem, Charles. The images are so specific and beautiful and then you take them to this grander place. Well done. K.

    (This is Manicddaily. http://Manicddaily.wordpress.com. I can't make the comment thing work!) K.

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  10. Really like how you ended this piece, from the If only point forward really struck me, yet the first half I like how everyday experiences often hold the unexpected, leading nicely into the second portion, great first line as well-sets peach up as a whole very nicely, thanks

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  11. the wonders an empty gut can activ ate - more giving than daily bread. a deviation upon a theme... sliced - cheers charles

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  12. beautifully written. This line in particular reminds me why I find trees to be the most spiritual object in nature for me - If only I were a tree I'd know how to be (sigh - if only...)

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  13. A Beautiful poem Mr C..my thoughts...it is amazing, how easily, if you let all barriers between you & the world go, & wander open through a street, how much of the breadth of humanity's experience, can be so readily felt coming from each face; one will have a smile, another a grimace, and so on, but the feeling, too often carved, too often met, seems to be gradients of pain..so you have to rebuild that barrier, because no one person can carry all the others' pain, especially if you feel the need to try & heal them, save them, take it away.. I loved the ending of your poem too, hope...

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  14. cool poem about the everyday ...loved it thanks x

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  15. Charles, I'm a Bible reader who reads beyond it. I believe we write our own Gospels every day, or rather our own books of life... if the path is love, the writing comes more easily, but if the love leads to ACTION, to truly endeavoring to make the world a better place for those who need the help, it's a hell of a lot of work... and so worth it. Food for thought from this poem. Writing our own bibles, each day, by our actions and words... Lovely writing. Amy
    http://sharplittlepencil.wordpress.com/2012/02/09/dissonance-the-races-we-run/

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  16. Nice write. It's hard to withness the struggle of others and go on about your day ... Thought provoking and great .

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  17. Meandering through my mind like a placid river that reaches far in the bull rushes here and there.

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