Another Poem From My FB Postings

Insomnia

by Susan Schwan 

9/2010

Psalm 134:1
Praise the Lord, all you servants of the Lord who minister in the night in the house of the Lord.NIV

Psalm 22:3
But thou art holy, O thou that inhabitest the praises of Israel. KJV

Psalm 30:5
...weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. NIV

Praise the Lord, all you who watch in the night.
You musicians, poets, prophets to whom 

the threads of waking dreams come.
You who witness the wing-tip brush of angels over deathbeds, 

You scientists who comb the dark air for elusive intuition 

to bandage the wounded, hemorrhaging world.
You peacemakers, praise. You hungry children.
All you worried mothers and fathers.

O Praise the Lord from the silence,
from the deafening, claustrophobic truckload of dumped regret
which is delivered by the night-shift.
(I’ve heard the nocturne of the moving back-up beep
as I lay in my sweat-filled bed.)

O Praise the Lord, for the voice of praise is filled
with the mysterious energy of God, and
with the company of your dear and hallowed dead,
now almost visible under streetlight splashed upon your wall,
you build a vibrating web with which
God catches every tear, every sob, every whispered sigh
and with the inexplicable alchemy of what is,
turns it into laughter.

Posting An Older Poem

I've decided to copy to this blog some of the poems I've put up on FaceBook, in anticipation of possibly leaving the network behind at some point.  This first one comes at the wrong season, but as Winter seems to have laid claim to coming Spring days with snow and more snow in March, perhaps it's not SO out of place.


This came after reading Debbie's comment on the Long Night's Moon, a term for the full moon before Winter Solstice.

Long Night’s Moon

What magic casts December’s first full moon?
Tide of moving stone,
shadows on the silver frost,
distant howl of Winter predators,
a flashing glimpse: hindquarter of the wounded year. 
Sister, draw your breath.
Husband, quickly close the door. Come fire-close.
Soon, soon December turns her haggard face,
shows the blue twin of her glistening eye,
too weak to hold her long night
against the strengthening sun.

Susan Schwan
(draft 12/2/09, ed. 3/6/12)
)