Poetry with audio | Our Sacred Echoes

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There is a lie at the heart of every writer,

That we are telling the truth,

That the peach was just as delicious

As we would have it, that we bit into

Fruit as soft and kind as a heart,

That the finger-cold, runny-nose day,

The frozen slide, the hourless blue sky,

The echoes of a child’s scream

Against the snow, are redemptive.

We wait for clarity, for something

Clearer, brighter, stronger than our

Ordinary selves. But when the words

Arrive and we perform the trick,

Something less than true falls

Into place; still the sacred has come.

We are circling ourselves, inventing,

Polishing moments, freezing time,

Vainly singing anthems into wells,

Anthems that only return to us in being

Witnessed in a great-hearted alchemy

Because, the thing is enough for you too.

Because we are both of this funny earth,

And light diffracts from where you

Sit and read this, and where my pen

Hits the page, and it is never the same,

It is never wholly true, but is wholly shared,

Sure as a kiss – there, I love you.

I will be kind, I will carve love

From peaches, snow echoes and work,

I will sing into wells, I will name the trick,

I will wait for miracles or magic

To send your voice back up.