A Sunset Captured by a Drop of Rain

The orange sphere is racing just ahead

Of dark-gray sheets that sweep across the sky,

Collecting shades of pink and purple-red

Where rays of light impart their sun-made dye.

 

The sphere appears to touch the distant ground

And flatten, as the sheets begin to pour

Their water from above, its muffled sound

Surrounding me upon the grassy floor.

 

One cloud-borne tear falls just before my face,

Descending on the course it’s meant to fly,

And in that moment – that brief, eternal moment –

One droplet holds the sun before my eye.

Sometimes when I go on bike rides in the evening, I see the sunset to the west juxtaposed against clouds that cover the sky overhead. This poem simply imagines a magical moment, when a tiny raindrop falling from the clouds appears to contain the entirety of the sun within itself. We might draw parallels to the depths contained within the human soul, the wonder within a single moment of insightful revelation, or - to borrow the title of a book written by the Dalai Lama - "the universe in a single atom."

Stagnant

The faucet had been freely flowing

Much like a steady river running,

But then the drain had started slowing,

Surprising all our careless cunning.

 

Eventually, we turned it off

Or, at least, reduced the rate

At which the water filled the trough,

And now we’re left to ask, “Too late?”

 

A tepid pool now lingers, waiting

Until the flow will start again,

While we remain at odds, debating

The right way to restart and when.

 

But as the present seems to stretch

And sit from day to day unaltered,

Perhaps we have the space to etch

A better future where we’ve faltered.

 

When future’s bells return to ringing,

Perhaps the flow will pull us to

Release what vestiges were clinging,

Revealing light still shining through.

I wrote most of this poem several weeks ago, while the pandemic quarantine was at its peak (although I continue to work from home now). It explores many of the same ideas and themes as my poem Spun Askew, which I shared in early May. Still, I think it has some relevant things to say, especially about continuing to be conscious of the societal issues that this pandemic has exposed.

The Sun behind the Storm

Where does shelter lie

To offer solace from the storm?

Do you wall the endless sky

And close off every face and form

Until your soul is held inside

And nothing enters through the door?

But what of those who wait outside,

Enduring still, as times before,

The lashings of the driving rain,

The pressures of eternal strain?

 

No – today, I open up

To hear the cry and see the cup

Where dreams deferred spill out again

To break upon the ground, and then

I reexamine what I think

And learn from lives that bend their ink

To mark the struggles they have known,

Each loss and wound and broken bone

And so much time spent waiting

For all to hear the devastating

Song that pours until reform

Will find the sun behind the storm.

 

For the sun is sometimes brightest

When it’s breaking through the falling rain,

And the air is sometimes lightest

In the shadow of the hurricane.

Will the days soon bring that moment?

Will the swelling waves and fair refrain

Bring all humanity to bear,

Confronting such historic strain

With deeper strands of love? Ensnare

My humble soul, in days grown warm,

Where solace lies beyond the storm.

I've been writing this poem slowly over the past week, thinking about everything that's been happening in the country and the world - thinking about the past and present sins that haunt our society, the need to confront and address these horrifying realities and systemic injustices, and the importance of raising up the voices and work of members of vulnerable, neglected, and oppressed communities. In that vein, I'd suggest you check out the short and extremely powerful poem Harlem, composed by Langston Hughes. That poem is what inspired my use of the phrase "dreams deferred" in the second stanza.

The poem I've written is meant to convey the responsibility I have to be open, to listen, to work toward a better understanding of the issues at play, and to support efforts for a more equitable society where everyone - and especially those who have been and continue to be the targets of racism and injustice - feels safe, valued, and loved. It's my hope that this period will help to push us along a path that leads, eventually, after continued effort and sustained work, to better days.

Spun Askew

When lovers wandered hand in hand

And children raced from door to door,

When every hour’s falling sand

Revealed to us an altered shore,

Each moment of the world felt new,

But time has now been spun askew.

Although the planet’s spin persists,

Our days are draped with stagnant mists

That swallow up our lives’ progression

As we endure this plague’s oppression.

We need a modicum of hope

To focus the uncertain scope

Of future’s course, to give direction

And help us feel time’s onward force –

A pathway toward renewed connection

To realign us with our source.


Over the past several weeks, I've not posted much poetry. In part, that's due to the fact that I've been focusing more on recording music to share on Facebook. But, it's also because I've been having trouble finishing poems during this period when time seems so different. I'm not exactly sure of the reason, but I think it has something to do with how it's harder to notice progress and change as the days blend together, and as almost all my time is spent inside my apartment. That's more or less what this poem is expressing.

Sitting Out as the Sun Goes Down

After returning from a run

And showering off the sweat,

I take a folding chair outside

Upon the deck and let

Myself recline beneath the angled sun.

Preoccupied by data shining

From the computer upon my lap,

I do a little work, defining

Trends before my sightlines snap

And look around.

The orange sphere’s descended.

A stillness settles on the ground,

The sky has purpled and extended

To meet the full moon’s pale and yellow light,

And I return inside, refreshed

By the magical turning of day to night.

There's not much explanation needed for this one. What's described in this poem simply happened last night, and I felt inspired to write. This poem may be a bit freer with rhythm than what I typically write...possibly because I wrote it so quickly.

The World at the Window

The scent of the rain

The touch of the breeze

Protect me from the daily strain

Of isolation’s draining freeze.

The sound of a bird

The sight of the sun

Uplift my soul without a word,

Forgive me for what’s left undone.

A taste of life’s expanse

Connects me, where my body stands,

To all the world’s varied dance,

To you in near and distant lands.


This is another short poem about life during this uncertain time. In Illinois, we are under a "stay at home" order, so I'm spending almost all of my time in my apartment. Yesterday was a warm day that offered all of the different things mentioned in this poem. It was nice to open the windows and feel these different parts of the outside world. 

Abiding

Yesterday, I stood

With the screen door open wide

To feel the world I’m distanced from

And all the unacknowledged good

It holds. I stood a bit inside,

Took in the air, and heard the hum

Of growing things that sprout and crawl and glide.

In the end, I thought of you

And knew

Your presence will abide.

Like many others, I am now working remotely from home. I'm fortunate to have a job where this type of remote arrangement is possible - many others do not. Still, it's an odd feeling, even for an introvert like me, to be separated from others to this degree. This poem is yet another one of my efforts to remain connected as much as possible, and to provide some small amount of comfort in this extremely uncertain time (for me, as well as for others).