He disappeared in the dead of winter… the brooks
all frozen and the airports almost deserted…
W.H. Auden
float across chilly October mornings in St. Remy,
singing your friendship out across the fields where
last summer’s Lavender and Sunflower blooms
chased the sun from horizon to horizon. Like Gypsy
singers they sing their bright sadness into stillness
coaxing leaves to desert their holy attachment to
another season on the branches of Van Gogh’s
delicate Olive trees and Avignon’s white Sycamores,
and join the great loneliness of orange moons sifting
through midnight silence of granite valleys, throbbing
with the dream songs you found in Modigliani and
Baudelaire, with the ‘City of Atlantis’ shining from
your face. The future waits in early morning light,
rising on the backs of leafless mountains arched into
the deep and endless blue of afternoon skies en
automne, while dutiful Cicada wheeze their madrigal
melancholy into stillness so large it doubles the loss
of your hungry eyes, always seeking how much of
God was in you, and in all that sang outside of you.
Like that ache in the singer’s voice trying to give
back to words the emotion they’ve lost to logic
and common sense, you took back from the vagaries
of memory’s iron wind, the spiritual grace of love
that doesn’t need to be earned or deserved.
for Edwin Clarke
(1962-1996)
Blooms chasing the sun evoke gladness in me, then the gypsy singers take me to a paradoxical point of stillness. The loneliness of loss resonates with orange moons in their silence. Stirrings of hope in the morning light expanding into the endless blue of afternoon skies contrast with the loss of the hungry eyes seeking the transcendent in me and all that sings in song or silence outside of me. Then the epiphany of restoring emotion to words reduced to logic and common sense gives meaning to being human, especially when graced with a love unearned and undeserved. I am left with an inner stillness, a renewed respect for our starved emotions, and gratitude for that spiritual grace we can share through our deeply seeing, hungry eyes.