Skip to content
Menu

Poetry

Your name, Jesus, is childhood in the body, at times
a single malt upon the tongue, Vivaldi to the ears;

your name, Christ, forgiveness to the heart, acceptance
to the flesh, a troubled joy across the soul;

at ever my very best I will plead to you, closest to me,
for kindness. Perhaps the silence I take for God’s

non-presence is the noise in which I have immersed
my life; nor have I framed a quiet to correspond

to his, where I might find my every call
answered. I seek kind. You are the reality I cling to,

the flesh, the history, the spurting out of blood. I believe
the non-attendance of my God lies in my absence from him

and he is present, like the embrace of air
or the inward forces of the seasons. Your name, Jesus,

is the river on which I float, your name, Christ, the ocean
where everything is in place, is shivering, beautiful, and apart.


The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Related Poetry

Custody of the Eyes

By

Sarah Gridley

Jam Jars

By

Tadeusz Dabrowski

old art deco gas station in little havens.

The Dawning

By

Claire McGoff

Orchard

By

Valerie Wohlfeld

Welcome to Image. 

We curate content just for you. Subscribe to our weekly newsletter ImageUpdate for free.


Pin It on Pinterest