BLESSED B THE HERALD
Martin Higgins
She steps so surely.
From thought to thought.
Heart-held, truth-spoken,
Setting each hewn piece
In its proper place.
Mortised brick and notched block,
Keyed stone, mortar, pestle,
Laying deep foundations,
Reaching down
Below,
Past thick inner mantle,
To bedrock being,
Core soul.
Blessed B.
And there, hardened by time,
Transformed by water,
Gone clear under pressure fire,
Cut, polished, star gleaming,
Her brilliant word light glistens,
Her lettered luminance.
Her shining surety,
Her bold proclamation,
Herald by name.
Blessed B.
And her mind, prowling an ageless landscape,
Gathers brush, paint finds purchase,
Lifting, brandishing, offering,
Shot-straight strokes,
That render and shade,
Laid open under a Maxfield Parrish sky.
Her detailed heartland, foreground prominent,
A life mural daubed on the fieldstone wall,
Behind which my spirit hides,
Drugged by her gaze and driven to confess,
Drunk with pain as it drowns in delight,
Drawn from my sad-eared sorrow,
To take a deep draught of the earthsprung
Limestone lagoon,
Where her shimmering images
Send shafts of healing light,
Through somber depths,
To the fertile mud mother.
Of my clay soul,
That awaits only her fire,
To find its form,
To be,
Blessed B.
And, as she speaks, I sit, rapt,
My spirit agape, turning to bask
In her warm honest morning.
Her beneficent bequest.
Blessed B the Herald.
-
Copyright © 2016
Martin Higgins
all rights reserved
From thought to thought.
Heart-held, truth-spoken,
Setting each hewn piece
In its proper place.
Mortised brick and notched block,
Keyed stone, mortar, pestle,
Laying deep foundations,
Reaching down
Below,
Past thick inner mantle,
To bedrock being,
Core soul.
Blessed B.
And there, hardened by time,
Transformed by water,
Gone clear under pressure fire,
Cut, polished, star gleaming,
Her brilliant word light glistens,
Her lettered luminance.
Her shining surety,
Her bold proclamation,
Herald by name.
Blessed B.
And her mind, prowling an ageless landscape,
Gathers brush, paint finds purchase,
Lifting, brandishing, offering,
Shot-straight strokes,
That render and shade,
Laid open under a Maxfield Parrish sky.
Her detailed heartland, foreground prominent,
A life mural daubed on the fieldstone wall,
Behind which my spirit hides,
Drugged by her gaze and driven to confess,
Drunk with pain as it drowns in delight,
Drawn from my sad-eared sorrow,
To take a deep draught of the earthsprung
Limestone lagoon,
Where her shimmering images
Send shafts of healing light,
Through somber depths,
To the fertile mud mother.
Of my clay soul,
That awaits only her fire,
To find its form,
To be,
Blessed B.
And, as she speaks, I sit, rapt,
My spirit agape, turning to bask
In her warm honest morning.
Her beneficent bequest.
Blessed B the Herald.
-
Copyright © 2016
Martin Higgins
all rights reserved