Late Evening Indictment
Editors Note: I asked my friend Aaron to do some poetry on the book of Genesis. He and I share an old earth view of creation. A daunting burden in a conservative world bent on ridiculing us. This is now published in Writing Poems in the Shadow of Death.
Late Evening Indictment
the hill before dark
dappled in shadows of clouds and
then pillowed in evening murk
the curve rises above the fingertips
of pine
that accuse skyward, each
indicting the star to
which it has been assigned
obsessing upon that star from weak and green sapling
to old stone rust green seaborne anchor and oxidized earth
that blackens in the cries of twilight
in the dearth of the Sun’s harrowing voice
and from curled tenderness
and lips like
limp baby kiss
to rigid
aged and
fearless:
these pines wreath the bareness of the hill
like an ascending army
and on the pitch of the worn hilltop
with its vow of silence
I burn the memories of
forteen billion years
under a pyre literal
words
the hill before dark
dappled in shadows of clouds and
then pillowed in evening murk
the curve rises above the fingertips
of pine
that accuse skyward, each
indicting the star to
which it has been assigned
obsessing upon that star from weak and green sapling
to old stone rust green seaborne anchor and oxidized earth
that blackens in the cries of twilight
in the dearth of the Sun’s harrowing voice
and from curled tenderness
and lips like
limp baby kiss
to rigid
aged and
fearless:
these pines wreath the bareness of the hill
like an ascending army
and on the pitch of the worn hilltop
with its vow of silence
I burn the memories of
forteen billion years
under a pyre literal
words
