God bless the willows,
willows that weep,
they care not if
we wake or we sleep
 
not if the criminal
raises his knife
nor if the sick man
loses his life
 
we say they weep
for trailing their hair
when our hearts are like wood
and eyelids are bare
 
we say their hair
for branches and leaves
we bless the willow
the willow which grieves
 
                                                                        (1990s)  
   

 
Great Gardener of the fields,
cropping wisdom, power, and good,
here are some special buds
blooming mercy, love, and truth.
 
Where comes the seed we give,
the pruning and the shower?
When these new buds will open,
shall we recognize the flower?
 
Teacher, show us what to do,
and from your storehouse give
the truth, the love, the mercy
to make your blossoms live. 

 
We ran the flag up high, it seemed,
stars spangled against the sky
Of youthful dreams and those we dreamed,
no dream then seemed too high
 
The colors painted the universe
and brightened the earth below
Each wave signaled beyond the first,
each gave its own brave show
 
The flag flew, the breezes blew,
folds rippled a joyous swell
We all did the best we knew,
we all left some tales to tell
 
Now I see a flag at half
grieving for the world  [i]
for sky-fliers’ lives that passed
a public sign unfurled
 
In the cold of nations’ grief,
in the rain of nations’ tears,
the astronauts will fly at brief
to mark their shortened years
 

   (continued on next page)
 
 
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An echo of private sorrow
for deaths not generally mourned
a few hearts’ blind tomorrow
some dear hopes still unformed
 
I see that flag and wonder,
where have they gone, and why.
I watch those stars and ponder
how we place stars in the sky
 
And how to sing, how to wave,
how to celebrate,
how to thank, how to save
those private hearts that break
 
                                                            (for C. and G.,  2000s)   


[i]  “List of spaceflight-related accidents and incidents”. Wikipedia.org.  {https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_spaceflight-related_accidents_and_incidents#During_spaceflight}  (accessed January 17, 2022) 
“1 February 2003  –  The Space Shuttle Columbia was lost as it returned from a two-week mission … the spacecraft breaking apart during reentry.” 
 

 
My alarm sounds at seven
I do not turn on the radio in the morning
sometimes the phone has already been ringing
John’s patients call early downstairs
 
In my kitchen the water is boiling
I turn on the coffee pot
go to the bathroom
fix eggs, sometimes bacon –  toast with jam
 
My kitchen gets no sun in the morning
the ceiling by the window
for a year has rained down into pans
the plaster’s falling, looks terrible
 
I wash the dishes in the bathroom
my hands – are so uncoordinated
St. Vitus dance
as the dishes slam and bang

After breakfast I go downstairs
the family’s in the kitchen
if they have the paper
by the time I get it – they’re gone
 
Sometimes John stays for phone calls
in his study
or the kitchen
he’s always been busy
 
Usually 
– it’s me 
and the morning sun
and the newspaper
 
                                                                        (for  R.G., 1990s)

 
Though meant to be a red or yellow flame
some leaves blight dulls:
remember Requiem
for half-dead souls
 
Others, wind and worm misshapen
never to grow right –
overcome their alteration
filtering the light
 
One man in prison found bright faces
hands and voices, crowds and  places
helped memory to defy
captors, sickness, weakness – choices
rather than deny
the day which makes leaves bright
the light which builds the cells which make decay
 
                                                (originally called “Martyrdom” – 1960s)      

“Mary, Mary, Maculata,”
how does your walking go ?
Dreamlike, oblivious to our stare ….
No word or name, parading so,
you seem “blaspheme,”
like elephant-dung on Virgin’s frame  [i]
From Heaven’s view
through a glass, darkly  [ii]
Earth’s Mary-Mirror, opposite:
Maculata, for “stained and spotted,”..[iii]
frail, and old and torn – surely not a maiden
nor virgin, probably
 
She has assumed her own Dormition..[iv]
as she walks with dainty vacancy,
urination, defecation,
in clothes the sane don’t wear
her mildness yet so wild –
long strands of uncombed hair ….

Homeless in our city, no – just sleeping rough –
park dirt, road dirt, and shelterless by choice. . .
Mindless, sexless, gesture and no voice
mostly present with no past,
protected still by Joseph, or some Wise Man
–  smoke and coffee move time fast
 
Alone in emptiness of busy street
like the Miracle Man “possessed”
and breaking his chains near caves,   [v]
self-destroyed by daily wounds,
whom none could help or save
and only Christ could change.
But here –  not yet, God has not come –.
How strange ….
 
Still, she is Queen of the Negaverse,
Anti-matter, anti-quark, mud in mud-puddle,
sending yet a spark, magnet-like to Heaven,
“Mary Immaculate, Mother of God,
pray for his Child – quite contrary”  [vi]
 
                                                                        (2020) 

[i]   “The Holy Virgin Mary”.  Wikipedia.org.  {https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Holy_Virgin_Mary}  (accessed January 10, 2022).   
“On a yellow-orange background, the large painting depicts a black woman wearing a blue robe ….The work employs mixed media, including oil paint, glitter, and also elephant dung, and collaged pornographic images…inspired by a period that Ofili spent in Zimbabwe ….The painting was made in 1996 and became a cause of controversy ….The City of New York brought a court case against the Brooklyn Museum….”    

[ii]   St Paul, a Biblical phrase from 1 Corinthians 13:12.  

[iii]   “Immaculate  (adj.)”. Online Etymological Dictionary. {https://www.etymonline.com/word/immaculate}  (accessed January 10, 2022). 
“  ‘free from mental or moral pollution, pure,’  from a figurative use of Latin  immaculatus  ‘un-stained’ … (see in-  +  maculatus  – spotted, defiled,  past participle of maculare  – to spot, from macul  – spot, blemish,  a word of uncertain origin.’  
“ The literal sense of  ‘spotlessly clean or neat’  in English is first attested 1735….The phrase Immaculate Conception,  ‘freedom from original sin possessed by the Virgin Mary from her conception in her mother's womb,’  is from late 15c. in English … the idea itself had been debated in the Church since 12c., declared to be an article of faith in 1854.’  ”   

[iv]   “Dormition of the Mother of God”. Wikipedia. org. {https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dormition_of_the_Mother_of_God}  (accessed January 10, 2022)   
“The Dormition of the Mother of God is a Great Feast of the Eastern Orthodox, Oriental Orthodox and Eastern Catholic Churches which celebrates the "falling asleep" (death) of Mary the Theotokos ("Mother of God”) . . .and her being taken up into heaven (bodily assumption)” 

[v]   St. Mark, 5: 3-6,  USCCB  –  United States Catholic Conference of Bishops.   {https://bible.usccb.org/bible/mark/5}  (accessed January 10, 2022).    –                                                               
“The man had been dwelling among the tombs, and no one could restrain him any longer, even with a chain. In fact, he had fre-quently been bound with shackles and chains, but the chains had been pulled  apart by him and the shackles smashed, and no one
was strong enough to subdue him.  Night and day among the
                                                                (continued on next page)
tombs and on the hillsides he was always crying out and bruising himself with stones.  Catching sight of Jesus from a distance, he ran up and prostrated himself before him.”

[vi]   “Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary”.  Wikipedia.org.  {https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary,_Mary,_Quite_Contrary}  (accessed January 10, 2022)  –  “an English nursery rhyme. The rhyme has been seen as having religious and historical significance, but its origins and meaning are disputed …   
“  ‘Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow ?’ 
‘With silver bells, and cockle shells,
And pretty maids all in a row.’  ”   
 

No, I did not go to Tibet
But I have learned some things about Tibet
I understand a little about Tibet
I feel for Tibet
and, after all, although I am their brother,
I am not a Tibetan
 
                                                                 (1960s)

There’s only one God
as going-on-ness shows
no recourse
to another universe
the doors lock  –
Somehow, being confined here
we remember
the thousand names of Allah
since each one
gives the same answer
 
                                                                                                (1970s ?)

 
The priest stands
beneath a gentle crucifix
in splendid robes
humbly saying consecration .…
 
Is my mind wandering,
when I see a wintry road,
with farm machine crashing?
On ice, a tractor falling,
to press its farmer down .…
 
I feel him lying there,
I hear his cry for help,
the empty sky,
a mile away
a barking dog .…
 
Mixed with the prayer our priest raises,
the smell of the winter cold,
the touch of stinging air,
and,
when the Host is raised in halves,
his broken bones…
before the loss of consciousness,
hope, and fear .…

   The priest offers the sacrifice,
and we around the altar
each have private prayers:
“Lord Jesus among us,
this man who suffers
is a man I know .…”
 
No one told me the time of day,
but I see darkness’ edge
bring slow northern night,
chilling a man who is not yet missed.
Now I offer a prayer for him
though he was found a week ago.
 
Here we receive communion
in the warm church,
with candles lighting faces,
a lovely voice singing
sweet Angelicus .…   
 
I see his wife at home,
wondering why he’s late,
then, if he’s safe,
and finally,
putting on a coat
to hurry and search
where  –  where?
until she sees the tractor silhouette.
 
I know this woman, and I am praying too late.
This moment came and went,
but I am praying for her .…
Can you, Jesus,
use these prayers now?
Since I knew not
to pray then,
can you take my prayer now,
and heal with it?
 
So, I offer my communion,
for the woman finding him,
crushed and cold,
holding his head and hand,
speaking to him,
running alone for help…
(though no one told me so)
and for the man, waiting .…
 
Then others come, crisis done.
I am not involved.
I hear later,
far away, no details. 
 
But I know the road and woods,
and love these good people,
and so I imagine,
and my heart is taken by the Mass
to their darkness.
 
Even after the fact,
with Your sacrifice, O Lord,
I offer this up.
 
                                                (for Mr. and Mrs. S., 1980s) 

 
The year has refused
to live without the sun
she has cast down
her clothed branches
danced her indignation
and insists that
no matter what
she will not forget
and no force of nature
can passion in her veins
but with total abnegation
she will celebrate regret
 
                                                                        (1960s)