Poem: Let be

Let be

Patrick T. Reardon

 

 

Let be the messenger preparing the way.

Let be days of old.

 

Let be the old style, old age, old testation,

old nation, old expiation, old matter, old

empty tombs, old souls rising.

 

Let be dying.

 

     Child of the Century only got

the rubies, his sister was

given the diamonds.

 

Let be eyes that have seen.

Forty days and forty nights, let be.

 

Let be Simeon and Anna, the Samaritan

well woman, the Good Samaritan, the

rich young man, the chief priest and the

elders, the scribes, the Pharisees, James

and John, Peter and Andrew, Spahn and

Sain and pray for rain, Odysseus and Ulysses,

Father and Son, Monet, Manet and Rodin.

 

Let be burnt offerings.

 

Bread, wine and water, let be.

The lance in the side, let be.

 

     Like Mama, Jacoba told GirlJane

what to do. Like Papa, she put

the bleak fear of God in her.

 

Let be the dying sacristan, the hammerhead

toe, the strange spot, the strained shoulder,

the coughing usher, the shaking hands, the

lost hair, the stomach cancer, the shriveled

nun, the ear infection, the twisted ankle,

the muscle cramp, the blur of sight.

 

Let be transmigration, incarnation,

transfiguration, conception, resurrection,

transubstantiation.

 

The pope and the first baseman, let be, and

the pipefitter, NICU nurse, ditchdigger,

precinct captain, Pepsi truck delivery driver

and undercover detective.

 

Let be the sign of peace, the sign of the cross,

the sign in the sky.

 

Let be double time, double play,

Doublemint gum, a triple double,

double-tied laces, double dribble,

chin dribble, chin music and

chinny-chin-chin.

 

Denmark Jones is shut within

the roar of cicadas. Fashioned from

clay, he is chopped off at the ankles.

 

Let be Pastor Dom, dying,

all dross burned away, focused, centered

at the altar of every soul.

 

Let be the blessing of the word,

the blessing of the throats,

the blessings, first and last.

 

Let be yes.

 

Patrick T. Reardon

9.11.26

 

This poem was published by Tipton Poetry Journal on 9.1.26