booksartyoume

'Paschal Lament' timothy r gates, 4/18/2009

Listening to
Bach, Handel
Garcia and Dylan
BB kicks in full swing,
Lucille never tiring of his
touch.

Brush to canvass
yellows, blues, charcoal
Van Gogh, Turner,
Carrington's study in hands Strachey
Irises never weary of blue
skies.

Darkness leans
listens, seeing
light's giving its shadow
'Behold what others call void'
present silence
gift of one tear.


'Paschal Lament, pt 2' timothy r gates, 4/18/2009

'Why my son?'
Sorrowful Mother,
bruised from beating
her
own
chest.
Head ache subsides,
pulled enough hair out
her
own
fists.
Love's lament
to
her
own
son:
step son
step brother
god; flesh and bone,
her song,
'My son, he cries out,
no one hears?!'
She did not
forsake
him.
She did not
turn a deaf
ear.
She did not
forget nursing
him.
His words,
'Behold
(this Jewish Mother)
'now, your Mother.'
Some days
i wished
i didn't know this
lament.