I had you penned—shepherd
singer, rifleman, drummer
farmer’s son, anger’s creature
honor’s fledged, one alone
mourning, hoping, anointed
afraid—beneath this glaze
you crack and fade, rise
river-like, green and gone
to shadow
Reading Mitchell’s Rilke again: The Spanish Trilogy.
Just ‘wow’ … ok, two more things: your list is wonderfully complicated and rich and the image of cracking glaze is perfect. I think I need to figure out how to quote you on that.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ah, the glaze, one of those mystical writing moments. 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Back to speaking in tongues?
LikeLike
Ha! Yes, because my regular access to words is starting to fail me…
LikeLiked by 1 person