The People of the Glass
Figures move against
a blue sky,
hands in prayer,
eyes in adoration,
lips in explanation;
Halos shimmer
over blue mantles,
crimson cloaks,
and robes of gray.
Under slate clouds,
the air is peopled
with stained glass devotees.
In the light between the
rivers of darkness,
the world within the world,
creation is suspended
in midair.
The people of the glass
are living forever
in translucent jewel heaven;
created by the hot breath
of God on the sand.
Figures move against
a blue sky,
hands in prayer,
eyes in adoration,
lips in explanation;
Halos shimmer
over blue mantles,
crimson cloaks,
and robes of gray.
Under slate clouds,
the air is peopled
with stained glass devotees.
In the light between the
rivers of darkness,
the world within the world,
creation is suspended
in midair.
The people of the glass
are living forever
in translucent jewel heaven;
created by the hot breath
of God on the sand.
I am back. I have been gone awhile because, well, life was just crazy. Bad things happening in Houston ... flooding, flooding; homes torn apart, vehicles washed into rivers with 12 people in them, and all the dead horses. . Bad things happening all over the world, too. So much sadness. . I think in another life, I must have been a nun, cloistered in some abbey with my books, and my pens, and my prayers and my contemplation. When life swirls around me, like a funnel cloud, throwing things at me and tearing them away, scrambling everything, my first thought is to withdraw and just hide away from the world and all the bad news that flickers on every screen, and all those people and responsibilities. Some folks say that those of faith (of any religion) must find a way to be of the world but not in it. I am still searching for that way. Poetry helps and prayer, too. Like Franklin Delano Roosevelt, "All we have to fear is fear itself". We must go on daily with our lives and our love and keep that faith that somewhere there is answer. .