051315: Morning

She sleeps in the room above me,
home for an end-of-semester visit.
A tremor passes through me when I read the morning’s headline:
Railroad accident
Philadelphia
scores injured
seven killed.

She sleeps quietly
having, a mere two days ago,
rounded that fatal curve
beside which lies a coach mangled
as though by the hand of a demented sculptor.

The tremor courses through my body
my soul
my mind.
It is not, to be sure, a temblor of Nepalese magnitude,
nor the rending of heart and community experienced by a family
whose son was shot dead mere blocks from my home.

But some misses feel nearer than others.

The soul-shake passes, and I breathe deeply,
seeking the breath that blows where it wills.
Life’s giftedness, its contingent and fragile nature, are palpable.
As is a fresh knowing of the strange providence by which
we live
and move
and have our being.

Our being with and for each other.

She sleeps.
And I tremble, with gratitude.

This poem was submitted by Deke Spierling.

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3 Responses to 051315: Morning

  1. Susan Andrews says:

    Absolutely beautifully! I could feel it….

    Like

  2. Sal in Highland says:

    Deke – I am very glad your daughter is okay. Peace be with you.

    Like

  3. Lori Knight-Whitehouse says:

    Thank you Deke. I knew this was your work from the first 2 lines.

    Like

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