after Robert Bly
Some love to watch the sea from the perspective of night,
To see the moon settle, a marble in the sky,
To watch it sway the ebbs and flows in the night.
It blinds us from Heaven like the sun at dawn.
With Heaven unseen, no wonder we are blind.
Blindness is required to understand the dark night.
Sin often appears in the light of day,
Catching those off guard who trust in the daylight,
But sin is at its brightest in the night.
The Law was given because we had no sense of right.
Neither had we conscience convicting us of wrong.
Everything we thought we knew we learned at night.
The Pharisees who knew, but lied of the Truth;
The miracle-doubting Sadducees, willingly blind;
They, along with the scribes, were counting on the night.
There is but One who is known as the Light,
One who opens up eyes, both spiritually and physically,
Born beneath Bethlehem’s star, a beacon in the night.
The writing in the sky is a tempest bent on sailing us into death.
Once the sky was a pastel poem; that was before our shame.
The Garden of Eden was guarded, but not against the torrent of free will.
From then till today, despite the Cross, we have meditated on our shame,
Though many do so for what they deem to be absurdity:
How dare a myth come alive long enough to announce our shame!
They will claim to be content with nothing to have faith in but doubt.
The seed cracks its head, plumbs alongside the weed, one emblem of our shame,
The greatest symbol, death, is personified in the strangulation.
The once more temperate sun and the grass it browns showcase our shame.
The animals, exhausted from the hunt, long to share straw.
The thorns that prick from the stem of roses demonstrate our shame.
The disgrace of man’s inhumanity to man is far too great a weight.
Then God Incarnate, on a Cross, took upon His body all our shame.
Thomas Locicero’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Roanoke Review, Boston Literary Magazine, Long Island Quarterly, The Good Men Project, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Jazz Cigarette, Quail Bell Magazine, Rat’s Ass Review, Antarctica Journal, Scarlet Leaf Review, Tipton Poetry Journal, Hobart, Ponder Review, vox poetica, Poetry Pacific, Brushfire Literature & Arts Journal, Indigo Lit, Saw Palm, Fine Lines, and New Thoreau Quarterly, among other journals. He resides in Broken Arrow, OK.