Poem of the Month: June 2009

Dust

Someone spoke to me last night,
told me the truth. Just a few words,
but I recognized it.
I knew I should make myself get up,
write it down, but it was late,
and I was exhausted from working
all day in the garden, moving rocks.
Now, I remember only the flavor--
not like food, sweet or sharp.
More like a fine powder, like dust.
And I wasn't elated or frightened,
but simply rapt, aware.
That's how it is sometimes--
God comes to your window,
all bright light and black wings,
and you're just too tired to open it. 

--Dorianne Laux

JOURNAL PROMPTS:

• What truth is being revealed to you?
• What is the flavor of your dream/desire: Sweet? Sour? Savory? Or have you chewed it all out?
• Write about a time when "God [came] to your window" and you were "just too tired to open it."
• Write about a time when you opened the window. What happened next?