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Local Poets - Becky Brown | Print |  E-mail
Written by See_Article   
Sunday, 09 August 2009

Local Poets - Poetry by Becky Brown   

"Jesus in a Hat"

I can only seem to watch over the world, as it sleeps.

With my eyes closed tightly and a motion of minds' breath, I can see brief glimpses of where I need to be, to find my rest.

It's so beautifully odd....

like seeing Jesus in a hat.

I've taken many a circle walk, at night.

I've stopped and kissed Lestat,

while stealing lilacs in the comfort of the dark.

I suck on the candied faith,

that somehow grows from the pores of the peaceful.

I do all this, while sitting on the curb.

Standing, may cause my balance to drip,

but I will learn to dance,

inside the timesteps.

 

 

" The Broken Red Canoe "

I left my voice, down by the water.

It will be safe.

At least there, any tarnishment of tone, will slip invisibly into the simple rythmn of the earth.

I can't hear it.

I left my soul, standing quite cold and still.

From beneath the protective shadow of the dream tree, it will keep watch.

Sneak, back into the warmth of the sun?

My spirit has become weary.

On pure will alone,

it may fly me once again, across the search grid.

I hear, it is a good path....Trust.

If I ever find it,

I may ask a friend to walk back with me.

Down to the water.

Maybe, even ask them to help carry some of the weight, if only long enough to feel unburdened for awhile.

Share gladly, the same in return.

Push hard.

Send it finally away.

We could sit and hold hands.

Watch and wait, for the heaviness of our fears and sorrows...

to finally sink, the broken red canoe.

                                     

 

 

" The River Grey "

I want to sleep.

When unaware, there are no thoughts of raft building.

No internal longing,

to walk in the non-existent shoes of Huck Finn.

When unaware, I can't feel the safety,

of being alone in the flow.

Running my hands in the river.

Cold, swift sensations.

No oars, no destination.

Watching the shoreline's evolution.

Each change so subtle, yet constant.

Seeing it all, from a distance.

No leaving a footprint......that requires resistance.

I can sit still, in prayer,

to no distinct Deity.

Having no presumptions ever,

to believing in the possibility of something pure.

Blind faith, could never be, black or white.

It's just whatever I need it to be, today.

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