To lie back under the tallest

oldest trees. How far the stems
rise, rise
………………before ribs of shelter
…….………………………………………open!
To live in the mercy of God. The complete
sentence too adequate, has no give.
Awe, not comfort. Stone, elbows of
stony wood beneath lenient
moss bed.
And awe suddenly
passing beyond itself. Becomes
a form of comfort.
……………………. Becomes the steady
air you glide on, arms
stretched like the wings of flying foxes.
To hear the multiple silence
of trees, the rainy
forest depths of their listening.
To float, upheld,
………………. as salt water
………………. would hold you,
once you dared.
To live in the mercy of God.
To feel vibrate the enraptured
waterfall flinging itself
unabating down and down
………………. ……………..to clenched fists of rock.
Swiftness of plunge,
hour after year after century,
………………. ………………. ………………….. O or Ah
uninterrupted, voice
many-stranded.
………………. …………… To breathe
spray. The smoke of it.
………………. ……………Arcs
of steelwhite foam, glissades
of fugitive jade barely perceptible. Such passion—
rage or joy?
………………. …………….Thus, not mild, not temperate,
God’s love for the world. Vast
flood of mercy
………………. ……flung on resistance.
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