Along Path P


At the crossroads, the just man suffers
just for being just –
Job, or Boethius,
or Jesus – carrying a load for others.

Dante whispers in Ravenna dusk
near his exile’s end.
Beatrice, penned
in a rose window, sets his task –

to sing the icon that he sees
breathing through granite
as turtledoves through light
gray feathers tune the breeze.

Stillness in time.  Iron history
crowns an infant brow...
the Son of Man, now
turning evergreen (in Maggie’s

almond eye).  The desolations
of a nightmare fade
when that rusty parade
sinks into brown decades (stations

on the prairie).  Mary Morning Star
signals her six ways
along Path P...  Praise
Manitou & Manitou-Child, our

big-eared Bunny Rabbihe
of the octave melody
which we sang, Adonai,
before dawn, one Epiphany...


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