Each word I choose
carries a different rucksack load for each of you
like I’m the fox slinking along rail lines
thinking by instinct & appetite & you’re
the commuter passing through
like I’m the moon whose same beams call
to a weeping child to a prowling owl
to shivering rodents in the grass
To say anything of God sounds to those
wandering the fields ragged & churchless
like a grand declaration from some little clod
To paint beyond what’s seen
of holy stars on a swirling canvas
is to touch ungraspable mysteries
Each flicker of light
from my hilltop fortress may be seen
quite differently from a distance
but that’s up to you The cypress trees flame
Each fox & field mouse responds
to the light they’re given scampers toward
the heights unburdened by whatever might
hinder them
D.S. Martin, author of Angelicus, is poet-in-residence at McMaster Divinity College and lives in Brampton, Ontario.
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