“July 10, 1981” and a dozen other faith poems

July 10, 1981

By Patrick T. Reardon

On this porch, on this cool summer day,
when the moon is benign in afternoon sky,
when birds sing from wire to wire,
I have no argument. This may be
the milk-and-honey time, the fulcrum,
the equator. I may be on my way
down or past or into. This will change,
and I will change, and the wood of this porch
will rot. The birds will die,
and I will die, and new leaves will grow
under other summer suns. I have no argument.

===

Old Testament

By Patrick T. Reardon

In the fire,
the prophets lived.

They crackled and sparked
and broke.

They shouted
but not their names.

They blazed.
They inhaled their words.

===

Hammerer

By Patrick T. Reardon

Hammer shatters marble saint.
The shout.
The thrill of the hammerer.

Immaculate death.
A clean blow.

Like the jagged line of lightning
to this spot on the soil.
A sharp depth.

The song of the hammerer is a keen.
The shards moan.
The dust refuses to settle, a galaxy of dirge.

Hammer the next head.

===

Providence

By Patrick T. Reardon

The nun said:
Pray for your sins.
Be watchful.
The Lord is like electricity.
Make no false move.

===

Altar

By Patrick T. Reardon

I offer the purple sash
and the white surplice.

I offer the cold mornings
when snow crunched
and the church was dark
and silent
and an old man
came down the aisle.

I offer the cruets,
and the words at the foot of the altar,
and the priest, heavy with vestments

Introibo ad altare Dei.

I offer the bells and the cross,
and incense sprinkled on coals.

I offer
the long white tapers
and the flames.

Ad Deum qui laetificat juventutem meam.

===

Psalm: Praise

By Patrick T. Reardon

The Lord croons melodious tunes.
Praise God.
The Lord whistles cool breezes.
Praise God.

The Lord laughs deep from the belly.
Praise God.
The Lord knows humor as a faithful friend.
Praise God.

Garden dirt is under the Lord’s fingernails.
Praise God.
The grit of soil, the Lord knows.
Praise God.

Sweating, the Lord’s muscles strain.
Praise God.
The load down, the Lord’s muscles ease.
Praise God.

The Lord grieves.
Praise God.
The Lord weeps.
Praise God.

The weight bows the Lord’s shoulders.
Praise God.
The Lord’s shoulders take the weight in balance.
Praise God.

The Lord sings full-throated songs in congregation.
Praise God.
The Lord’s voice joins all the voices singing.
Praise God.

The Lord croons melodious tunes.
Praise God.
Cool breezes are the whistling of the Lord.
Praise God.

===

Credo

By Patrick T. Reardon

Blood slows to the thrump of rain.
A knee twitch, a change in the weather.

We can dedicate.
We can leave our names
and go away.

We can take long scissors
and cut the paper moon into shape.
We can set it afire
or wrap our gum in it.

On the bridge,
the mist clings to the coat
like a child.

On the fabric,
it beads.

===

Psalm: Honor

By Patrick T. Reardon

Join in ritual.
Honor the Lord.
Join in gaiety.
Honor the Lord.

Gather in sorrow.
Honor the Lord.
Gather together.
Honor the Lord.

Link arms and march.
Honor the Lord.
Forge links.
Honor the Lord.

Embrace.
Honor the Lord.
Reach out, embrace.
Honor the Lord.

Sing in unison.
Honor the Lord.
Sing in harmony.
Honor the Lord.

Call and respond.
Honor the Lord.
Hear the word.
Honor the Lord.

Ponder and wonder.
Honor the Lord.
Preach and instruct.
Honor the Lord.

Knit the fabric.
Honor the Lord.
Mend the fabric.
Honor the Lord.

Dance.
Honor the Lord.
Dance and shout for joy.
Honor the Lord.

Join hands and dance.
Honor the Lord.
Dance in rhythm.
Honor the Lord.

Move together.
Honor the Lord.
Move apart.
Honor the Lord.

Move with the melody.
Honor the Lord.
Flow with the song together as one.
Honor the Lord.

===

Enlightenment

By Patrick T. Reardon

Who are we to tell him
that the vision he saw
was simply the mirror, the street light
and the angle of his sight?

===

Patient

By Patrick T. Reardon

I was put here
for you to help.
Will you help me?
Will you take away my dreams?
Do you dream?
You are filling up
with dreams
like a balloon.
You start to rise
awkwardly.
I hold my breath.
I wait for you
to explode.

===

He Makes a Scene

By Patrick T. Reardon

He shouts
suddenly
words out of context

out of order
in the meeting.

The chairman gavels.

He shouts out
words
suddenly.

I am ashamed.

===

Assassination

By Patrick T. Reardon

In the moment before explosion,
when he has raised the gun
and I have seen the metal,
we will be twins
again together
in the womb.

===

Primitive

By Patrick T. Reardon

The Moon is the Holy Ghost left to watch us
form in water, climb the sand, build in mountains,
fly on winds, land and possess her
— a bit of cosmic porn
or romance.

The universal story.

She is behind us and before us.

===

Patrick T. Reardon
7.2.15