love is a subtle mode of gravity

PEACEABLE REPLY

Love?  Love is a subtle mode

of gravity, persuading

everything into its ring

via reverse-magnetic motherlode.

Implicit ground of adoration –

centered in that other

sprouting up like heather,

unaccountable (& yet akin).

The Petersburg raznochinets

who wrote, maybe

we are Hagia Sophia

with a million eyes… completes

that Galilean one, who said

you are light of the world

& so like sheep into fold

he goes, smiling into Ya-Neku.

So like that sonorous Adagio

building gradually upward

on frail threads, the sad

clown walks into her thundercloud

shadow.  Like Mary Magdalen

she follows the mild voice

of one who mediates

all force with dove-modulation –

her cooing sing-song tilt of wing-

span balancing the red

& blue with a rusty rod

of iron – his wand out of Sing-

                   *

Sing, his foot-pedal, bruised purple

as small Rhode Island

violet (one grain in hand

touching the resonant key of small people).

She bears the crux of all martyrdom

across the political spectrum

like Mater Dolorosa on some

Syrian plateau of desolate Rom;

yet every child’s candle flickers yet

on the anniversary of statehood

& Providence, in the law-code

charted for Restoration Day (kismet).

When Rome fell, & sheep scattered

into milky constellations,

whirling light-grains

penetrating countless catastrophic

neighborhoods of pitch-black space.

In the darkest of Dark Ages

the ratio on parched pages

scratched by severed stump of Maximus

shone like Einstein intuition –

Man is imago of your Divine

infinite plenitude… sign

lofted into deepest void-perdition;

there is no sovereignty like this.

To be the peaceable reply

to every trumped-up tyranny –

we all God’s children, sang the Empress.

2.20.20