Apr 24, 2022 • 1M

Dispatch #63

Intercession

17
 
0:00
-1:19
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Appears in this episode

Joseph Massey
Poetry.
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Intercession

What’s real 
remains blurred 
until we say 
its name. Lord,
keep me tethered. 
Grief burns 
in my throat, but 
morning slants 
into a new season.
Pear trees 
flower along 
both sides of 
the street 
and flex 
with wind,
off-white 
and pixelated 
like lungs 
breathing memory
or a frame
from a dream
dissolving
before a shock of 
forsythia spikes
the landscape yellow.
The colors flood
through me,
what’s left of me
in the sudden 
absence of thought.
Call it happiness.
Call it the center 
of a prayer.
What’s left of me
when the images 
pour in
like a chant
or a charm
and scatter
into the seamless. 
To see 
by means 
of the unseen.
Lord, keep me 
tethered
to meaning: 
Your silence
where all things 
are holy. 
All things 
vibrating with 
light, April 
light. Light
with no winter
left in it. Light
of no other hour.