if only I can make holy just this one day

i.

Paul writes about hell realms
personified in his poem,
I say
hell hath no fury like the demons of the mind,
I awaken to my own nightmare,
rake coals dancing across my head,
my I's burn deeply forever scars of my humanity
ask not forgiveness for my existential being,
(neither Sartre nor Satan write the book on
my rise or demise)

eternity is but a glance
in the direction of the past
and love is an arrow of truth
shot across a glass-dark angry sea

love can not be mocked and sent below
the horizon
it can not separate sky from earth,
heaven from hell and the dreamer from
her dream

ii.

it is too early
I can't see the pale shades of morning
blending blue into a world of suchness when
the world is filled with sorrow
and I beg love to stay

an easy, lasting grace stretches
into another day ,
a confluence of birds sing
your praises,
flowers open to hear your song

I weep inside


iii.


the red car with Jersey plates backs out
it is cold and raining
how strange this empty house,
burning,
my eyes stinging with fire

iv.

i am nothing,
all alone
in my universe
only nature abides
with the scent of lilacs
drifting
into memory,

raw-skinned with silence.