NaPoWriMo - day twenty five

grounding

i heard you say
be more concrete

so i interpret it as density.

i pile up my ideas,

big as buckets,

and fill them with words

fluid to the touch,

the mind dipping in

and grasping at water

until the hands grow tired

of fishing

and you draw nearer

to the edge,

arms extended,

which can’t get you deep enough.

so then the first tentative steps

until you are immersed,

acclimating to this cold verse,

wondering which direction

you should face or where

this stream flows

until you either find purchase

or the courage to float,

be carried away,

or submerge.

look for pockets of air -

a space to insert your own voice

where it is

enfolded, and embraced,

and held under

the weight of the river,

the wet tradition of words,

the way language waters

the ground,

the way it grounds

your feet as you enter the story.

A Dubious Night by Richard Wilbur - NPM25

A Dubious Night

A bell dipthonging in an atmosphere
Of shying night air summons some to prayer
Down in the town, two deep lone miles from here,

Yet wallows faint or sudden everywhere,
In every ear, as if the twist wind wrung
Some ten years' tangled echoes from the air.

What kyries it says are mauled among
The queer elisions of the mist and murk,
Of lights and shapes; the senses were unstrung,

Except that one's star's synechdochic smirk
Burns steadily to me, that nothing's odd
And firm as ever is the masterwork.

I weary of the confidence of God.

Wilbur, Richard. "A Dubious Night" Upholding the Mystery: An Anthology of Contemporary Christian Poetry. New York: Oxford University Press, 1997. 326.