Vernal, Equinox: Two Poems for the First Day of Spring

When last did you?

 

Vernal

When the moon shifts its subtle weight

and you leave at last what you love

to hate, the friends you thought ill of,

forsaken, will open their hands

like petals in your sun.

The vultures will swing lazily

about your neighborhood,

and whether it is love

or roadkill

you will not be able to say.

The name of the world

is self and not self.

The name of the world is written

in the light on the waves

of the wind.

Release the shadows of morning.

For spring will not take you

from behind without warning.

Spring will take you swimming in snowmelt

and warm that hard thing frozen

in your womb. When last did you

look up, when last did you notice

that watchful eye,

some new thing

circling?

Whether or not you believe we are

Equinox

Resurrection is not a matter of faith,

though also, of course,

it is. Winter’s hand at last

releases the egg,

balanced on end,

and day comes swaying past,

balancing night

upon its head.

Come, let us give occasion

to faith. These rituals

of sage and sweetgrass

are more necessary

than fodder. We forget

the taste of the holy,

those starchy roots

dissolving to sweetness

on the tongue, forget

that we are spinning,

dancing like angels

on a pin. In these

new days given us

however many, however

few, let us stitch ourselves

in time with time,

plant our desires

in the dark moon

of our dark hours

and rise with our savior

in the spring.

Whether or not we believe we are

miraculous, akin.

 

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4 thoughts on “Vernal, Equinox: Two Poems for the First Day of Spring

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