we follow you still
J.T. Ledbetter
what are you doing there
beneath the iron trees
this time of night?
late, even for a monk
what thoughts flail you
worse even than the discipline
they handed you in 41
by now of course you know
the late nights beneath
the cold stars
and the long walks by
the pond won't change anything-
not really-
or the long hours looking into
that darkness you searched
for so long
hours biting back tears
you thought washed away by
private expiation so long ago
and now
to be found out by love
at this time of life—
in this way--when all that
had been settled and put away
only to find your heart burning
with a fire (that must be visible
to others) but leaves you standing
praying and working..
your words hard
like struck fire from mica
as you pray the hours
and fight your way through
the psalms that echo the ancient cries
but you should know that
we follow you in your rounds
sucking from you some
secret sign—
and we, who would be healed,
finger the hem of your robe
because we all burn with you--you
who are human
when we thought you were an ikon
of the life we sing, so blithely lead..
leaving you among your trees
and hidden pools in the shale rocks...
where none can touch you-
none can offer counsel
for your tired heart-
knowing you live as we do—
and how good, dear brother,
that is to know
as we follow you still...
all our days
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