When injuries of deception
corrupt the well, orchards shrivel,
and predators roam the streets.
Warm a cup of silence
on the fires of sacrifice;
empty the warehouse
of useless thought.
Stalking inner peace,
let fly the arrow of solitude
and devour the meat
of holy intention.
photograph by Louis MacKenzie
Reading of “Devour the Meat” with music by Ahura.
~ Amen ~
From the grit of the earth we come forth only to hunger alone after righteousness.
One way, One Love.
“Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendour in the grass,
Of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not rather find
Strength in what remains behind;…”
In the primal sympathy,…”
Wordsworth discerned it is that to which we give our hearts – the spirit of defilement or reverence for the immortal spirit of life – that make the difference.
Don, at first glance, the title “Devour the Meat” made me expect a poem about law firm partners completing client invoices. I know, I know: you want me to reheat my cup of silence.
I receive Manna throughout the day, and through the essences in your poems. Gratitude.
I had an interesting experience reading your poem this time, Don.
It was if I immediately understood your metaphors without any need to “translate” them. Awesome. Thank you.
Don, April is National Poetry Month. I celebrate your contribution to the art of poetry; to beauty, awe, and wonder. Thank you. Ed