We shovel heaps
And heaps of
Travesties upon each
Other burying one
Another beneath anger
If we are
Created in His
Image is God
Also hateful or
Has humanity devolved
So far away
From Spirit that
Meanness and agenda
Affords pain and
Torture instead of
Looking at these
Travesties as representative
Of the Divine
Let us remember
That these shovels
Of inhumanity are
Merely dark soil
Upon which the
Blossoms of hope
Do spring eternal
Here remembering 9/11
I feel like
A wagon caught
In the deep
Rut of some
Washed out road
Trying to climb
Out to level
Ground my heaviness
Veers me back
To something familiar
In desperation I
I jump the
Fence of propriety
And steer myself
Bumpily towards grassy
The grassy hills
Where my wheels
Glide over green
At last forging
My own path
There is a
Silence in knowing
You like a
An early Autumn
Day in a
Deep forest you
Snuck up on
Me like a
Wind shaking leaves
Sending them into
Flight your silence
Catching me in
Arms of crispness
Landing atop me
And laying that
First kiss of
Winter snow delicately
On my lips
I too have
Sat alone book
In lap reading
About romance and
Adventure wondering what
The conquest of
Hearth and heart
Felt like it
Feels like you
I know now
As I live
Rather than read
About the comfort
Of having you
In my life
Someone to go
To think about
Count on worry
About hope for
And fall into
I have now
Become what I
Have read about
And then there
In the silence
As the tides
Of past passion
Lick at the
Soles of our
Feet wicking away
The devastation of
Littered clothes we
Bask in the
Moonlight and wonder
If maybe creation
Was like this
The clashing of
Two heavenly bodies
Against the other
Taking some of
One a little
Of the other
And amidst the
Dust of eternity
Two becomes one
One new world
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 