smiles

by

when spirits touch…

A Duel Poem
by
 River Urke & Charles Martin

the call of a lone wolf
echoes
through the deepest corners
of the northern forest
a sound so primeval
from a forgotten soul
a wanderer of time
a time before men
walked the mossy path
alone, separated
and divided from all
now their relative calls
out their names
pleading for them
to return to the old ways
when men knew their brothers
and walked with their sisters
a time they lived side by side
no blades between or
tar soaked earth
only the warmth of love
for one another
a deep respect
for all who shared this place
and walked upon this path
a thousand miles far
the call of a lone wolf
resonates, passing through
earth, water, fire, and air
a girl lifts her ears
and speaks to the wind
brother I hear you
your voice is my voice
your sadness is mine
the lone wolf replies
young one, I carry
too heavy a burden
for your soft back
the girl smiles
and says to the old one
then let us do as before
and share the burden’s
of this world

Once again River Urke and I have entered into a duel poetry challenge and this is the resulting poem.  Duel Poetry:  a prearranged poetry writing challenge  between two people to evolve a new poem where each writer must respond to the other writer’s lines  (4 -5 ) until both parties agree that the poem is complete.

by

the berber queen…

 

her eyes spoke to me
words soft and gentle
as if she was my mother
not an old lady
living on some arid hillside
cliff in tunisia
this has been her home
since she embraced her true love
and we
we
were but another set of staring eyes
peering through cameras
capturing disney-like images
for the folks back home
to be discussed over wine and hor d oeurves
noting of course
our ten minute climb to her home
as if it were worthy of a boy scout badge
but long before we entered her portal
she saw us coming
as she peeked out for the next
visit from some group of naive tourists
believing that they were the first to meet her
and capture her image on digital negatives
and so i wondered
why she would grace us with smiles
not the ones programmed to come on
when the visitation switch was thrown
but smiles from deep within her soul
as if greeting an old friend too long gone
her eyes quickly told me why
in this hillside village
little changed day-to-day
the mediterranean sun like her daughter’s visits
rose and set with such regularity
that even a saint would cry tears of boredom
but our futile quest for understanding her life
was a splotch of color on the drab walls of her existence
we were the observed
not the observer
so her eyes danced
and laughed
as she recalled her youth
and the contours of the years in her face
faded from my view
and all i could see
was her dancing on her wedding night
all i could hear
was the pounding of her heart’s passion
and then all i saw
was this beautiful berber woman
as a queen
holding court
in her palace

by

of this i believe…

all the words
and verses had not changed
he had said these words a thousand times
and a thousand times he said them with faith
but today
he felt as if he were just an actor
one waiting for godot
staring out into the sea of souls
some lost among the coral reefs of disbelief
seeking to find the beacon of truth
that would free them from themselves
others
too sure of what they knew
dawned pious smiles when he said
what they wanted to hear
otherwise
they frowned at him
as he stood in the pulpit
he wondered
could he say those words
without
his faith intact
if they sensed his doubt
would they rise up from the pews
and proclaim him a heretic
or claim that their faith was undaunted
by what they had seen in the world
had they studied the word
as a lover studies their love
they would understand its history
but they do not know or care
who the scribes were
those founders of this society of believers
the codependency of this relationship
means he dares not tell them the truth
his cross would be that of the malefactor
who did not repent
but this man has done nothing
his questions have come with age
and studies to find true meaning
just to answer those daunting questions
formed from so many years of religious grief
wondering how men meeting in secret
could design and decide
on what was best for mankind
a committee
producing  sacred writings
marketing their beliefs as if for profit
he wonders am i now a non-believer
or am i like a lover
whose love has waned
over the years
progessing from insatiable passion
to a deeper love and understanding
or is this grounds
for divorce…

For those who wish to read the trigger for this, read: Non-Believing Clergy.
http://newsweek.washingtonpost.com/onfaith/Non-Believing-Clergy.pdf