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The Sheath

The Sheath


(This poem is not intended to celebrate any misuse of God’s good gift, but rather applaud divine secrecy.)

Beneath the vaulted stars
Beneath the arching sheets
Beneath a bridge of bone
The world is being made
Again, and again

And again.

In the beginning
God created light,
And he separated the light
From the dark,
Then called it a day.
And he found
Both the brilliance
And its vanquish
To be good.

God said, “The night is Good.”

As a monolithic shadow
Curves 'cross the earth
Like a bowl of partial blindness

As beasties creep from their dens
and men enter theirs,
Click the switch and grope
Into the mystery

As secret gardens bloom
Underneath the moon
and bridegroom farmers
Plow the virgin soil

As mingled wants converge
In beds of wanton lust or love
Conquest or courage,
Dreams of parenthood or status...

In the play of hot blood or cold,
Duty or delight,
In the pain of giving
Or having been had …

In the sea
That waves
Or cries, like a wounded wolf
Folding us into its arms …
Tonight, in the heat of an ancient beat
Thundering hearts, or the poly-rhythm
That rocks our world as
It rolls, splits --
breaks into new life.

We shut our eyes
As spirit twines with chemistry
In a million hidden spaces,
In the wood between the worlds
With all these hidden words
In the dark
The good good dark.

Someday, (maybe it was yesterday)
They will turn the light on mystery
Put it out for all to see
Like a naked running child – with Napalm on her back.
Something we were never meant to see,
In a photo – or a petri dish.

Spread the legs of DNA,
Chart the inner space,
Turn up the floods on the interplay of cells
And see
If the “product of conception”
Measures up.
Does it come
With high IQ,
Or a chance for cancer
Does it come with pedigree, or status
Will it tax the system, or be taxed
Will it match our dishes or display
Our name in ways that we see fit?

Might we with a little luck, fine tune,
Ratchet up the code,
Tweek the parts,
Build the perfect man.

BUT tonight
In the holy dark
In the holy recess of his will
In that place of grand abandon
Where no eye can peer
And no heart approve

In that place
Where no will is safe
From the tug of war of wants, and drives
Where not even planners have their way,
And no amount of Latex or one-child laws can
Dam the flow;
In a land where wedding bands are nice
But never checked
In a place where nappy broken bodies merge
And common sense, intelligence, and status
Go out the window

In the hidden
Of body and of dark
The Maker
Grows a world,
Peoples his kingdom

The dark is good


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