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Frostbite

I have never “believed in god” in the conventional dogmatic manner. But I’ve certainly had a relationship with a power greater than myself since at least adolescence. Exposure to the 12-step programs from an early age has taught me well. I know to only pray for “gods” guidance and the strength to follow that guidance. This I have known for a long time.

This poem, my 10th villanelle, reflects on past inner torments that have brought me to prayer, that earnest supplication for peace of mind and stillness of heart that can only be inspired by a sort of psycho-spiritual frostbite.

Frostbite

I have collapsed in prayer to an unknown force,
The weight of woes upon me, in strain beneath the strife,
And pleaded to the stars in timbres hoarse.

It seemed in vain, the winds tore deep and fierce;
Succumbed to frigid sorrow, on bitter steppes and wide,
I have collapsed in prayer to an unknown force.

An insignificant voice pealed forth my case
Against the growing silence, into the blurring heights,
And pleaded to the stars in timbres hoarse.

Defeated and alone, I stayed my course
Until the will expired; unable to revive,
I have collapsed in prayer to an unknown force.

This long-lived soul fell under glacial curse,
That once had dared entreaty, with no room left for pride,
And pleaded to the stars in timbres hoarse.

There on the frozen wastes I learned of grace,
Where deep and hidden terrors lurk just beneath the ice—
I have collapsed in prayer to an unknown force,
And pleaded to the stars in timbres hoarse.

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Pilgrim

A most unusual friend inspired this poem, my 8th villanelle. The descriptions aren’t exactly accurate, but this is intentional. For instance, my friend has never used a walking stick. No, you might think of this poem as an impressionist depiction of who he is, or at least of who I see him to be.

Pilgrim

For Derham Giuliani

Lonesome pilgrim on the path, where does the journey end?
With eyes on distant clouds, across the broad horizon,
Firm you grasp a walking stick, and wander with the wind.

Since you left the seething swarm, a peace has filled your mind;
Beneath the sprawling stars you watch the turning heavens—
Lonesome pilgrim on the path, where does the journey end?

Wisdom lights your countenance, where thoughts are unconcerned;
Each morning fills your view with glowing gold or crimson;
Firm you grasp a walking stick, and wander with the wind.

Weathered though your face may be, your gaze is clear and kind;
You’ve seen days grow and fade on undulating oceans;
Lonesome pilgrim on the path, where does the journey end?

Lucid understanding gleams within your eyes, unstrained;
Reflections streaming through, the sights that met your vision;
Firm you grasp a walking stick, and wander with the wind.

Steeped in clarity profound, you neither seek nor find;
The moonlight’s phasing hues reveal the way you’ve chosen;
Lonesome pilgrim on the path, where does the journey end?
Firm you grasp a walking stick, and wander with the wind.

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Reunion

In 1999 or so I had a vivid dream where I met my father briefly in the City of Necropolis. A few years have passed since then, but I still remember the dream vividly. Seemed like it was time to reflect that memory into a poem.

Reunion

i met him once
in another plane
beneath pale blue sky
surrounded
by cold grey towers
older than time

i remember
walking by myself
down archéd hallways
stretching long
sullen and dim
devoid of life

life lived not here
though it did pass through
in its erring quest
to fathom
what it all means
this strange journey

i met him here
where corridors crossed
through ages brooding
we alone
held in our gaze
one another

his face showed pain
fathomless concern
i saw not in life
but here now
in this city
Necropolis

we did not speak
though thoughts in balance
poised long on his lips
unable
to form one word
from his pained heart

not one thing moved
in this agéd place
where motion and time
stood frozen
as in silence
our gazes locked

i saw his pain
his longing to know
how i was doing
in absence
of his own life
he took from me

Publication History:

Blackmail Press (web-based) — Spring 2006

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God, May I See You?

This is a backlogged post, made on November 1, 2012. At the time I wrote this, I was still borderline Christian. This was ten years ago, and a lot has changed for me since then. However, you don’t have to be Christian, Muslim, Jewish, or any other particular religion to seek an audience with “god”.

We each understand this word and what it points to in our own way—This can’t be helped, as we are symbolically oriented, interpretive beings. And, throughout life, we each in our own way seek an audience with what this word represents to us, even if we’re not necessarily conscious of the fact.

God, May I See You?

“God, may I see you?”
A silence fills the air
Into the dark I stare with hopeful gaze

… … …

“God, may I see you?”
The room is cold and dark
And blank I stare into a blurring haze

… … …

“God, may I see you?”
A cold wind passes by
As long in vain I peer into the night

… … …

“God, may I see you?”
The desert stretches wide
Alone I scan horizon’s dismal blight

… … …

“God, may I see you?”
Soft the snowflakes fall
I try to see into the flurry’s drift

… … …

“God, may I see you?”
Pine needles seal the sky
I look into the forest’s closing wall

… … …

“God, may I see you?”
The ocean stretches broad
I dimly watch the great waves crash and roar

… … …

“God, may I see you?”
The moonless stars are bright
One parts and splits the heavy night in two

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Guidance

There was a time when I was more religiously minded. That was a long time ago. This ghazal was written a long time ago. Still, religious or not, it never hurts to seek the guidance of a higher power.

Guidance

Our souls and spirits, minds and hearts all need God’s guidance;
It seems we have the most to gain to heed God’s guidance.

When all the worst occurs and you lose your only footing,
A cry of need into the sky will speed God’s guidance.

When relentless fears assail with crushing weight and swell,
You will be blest beyond a doubt to plead God’s guidance.

Ask for knowledge of his will and willingness as well,
Else there is a likeliness to just misread God’s guidance.

It benefits to cognize his way is not our own;
Without trust in his will we retrocede God’s guidance.

When his loving way is shunned we dimly walk alone
And stumbling comfortless in pain impede God’s guidance.

In leading us he tends to veer for growth and learning;
There may be pain, but nothing can exceed God’s guidance.

Zahhar himself has walked through fearsome blazes burning
And has availed in knowing to concede God’s guidance.

This is my 11th ghazal.

Publication History:

The Penwood Review — Spring 2003

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Solace

This describes an actual event. I was a runaway at the time, barely 16 years old, traveling the highways. The cross is still there in Clifton, Arizona overlooking the little town. I visited the town in 2002 and took a walk along the ridge. The pit had been sealed. I asked the local people about the pit and learned that they sealed it up because too many people had met their death by chancing upon it unawares.

I’ll never forget that night or its lessons. My path has taken me away from Christianity, and I won’t ever be returning to it, but I remain true to what I learned that night, and I have built my life around what I gained that night.

Solace

It stood on a hill
Overlooking the town
Plain to view
For all to see
I saw it not
For I walked
Wandered
Sightless and blind
In my self-interest
 

It was night
When I wandered through
This lonesome desert town
And late
The shops closed
Even the drunkards
Coiled within their dens

Behind a shop
Against a hill
Stretched a mason wall
Behind which
I set my bed
For the night
And made ready
For sleep

Yet…..
As I lay there
Behind the wall
Fain to fall
Into my fitful slumber
I could not rest
My blood stirred within
Tensions rippled
Throughout my tired form

From the warmth
Of my bag
I looked up the hill
Rising there next to me
And felt a pull
Tugging within my chest
As a desire grew within me
To climb that hill
Who’s ridge
Faded into the night
Lost from sight

This tension within
This tug on my heart
Grew stronger still
Until
I could no longer
Hold my peace
Such as it was

Exasperated
I opened my bag
And climbed the hill
Into the night

Its ridge
Was easily reached
And stretched wide
Before dropping
Back into the dark
To the right
The ridge expanded
Disappearing from sight
As well to the left

I wanted desperately
To return
Back to my bag
And close my tired eyes
Drifting off
To my place of freedom
In the ever shifting realms

But…..
From the right
Along the ridge
I felt the beckoning…
My heart raced within
I felt unsure
Of this strange lure
Yet I walked
Along the ridge
Barely lit by the light
Of a crescent moon
Smiling serene
From the pinpricked depths

Along the ground
Dark shadows
Hid slight depressions
In the earth
Wherein I tread
With little thought given
Trusting to plant
Firmly
With my full weight
Each step
On solid earth

…And so I walked
Striding through shadows
Pooled in the ground
Phantom pits
Until all at once
I felt a grip
Cold within my chest
A warning
Screaming in my mind
Raising the hairs
Rigid on my neck
Sending throughout
All my form
A frozen chill
A phantom pit
Into which
I nearly tread
…Do not walk there

Before I thought to try
This shaded ground
My eye was caught
By a sight
Most unexpected

Not far from me
The ridge ended
And overlooked
The sleeping town
Nestled within
A meeting of canyons
And there
Where the ridge ended
Stood tall
Reflecting softly
What light there was
From the waning moon
A great wooden cross
Painted white

Chills shivered through me
My heart
Suddenly content
In beholding
The call
That brought me forth
From the warmth of my bag
From my much needed rest

What words could explain
The feelings within me
What words could express
That which I experienced

In that moment
I understood
He wanted me
To know
With certainty
He leads my heart
And has for me
A plan
I to this day
Can hardly fathom

And here
I walked around
That pooled shadow
And approached
Tentatively
Uncertain
The great cross
Only to find myself
Clinging to it
Crying
Expressing to him
Who called me here
All the fears
Dreads
Doubts
Desires
And every prayer
Of my heart
So deeply shrouded
In hopelessness

For long
There in the night
I clutched like a life-raft
A giant cross
That stood against
A darkling sky
Wind blowing
Wild into the dark…

Eventually
I let go
And sat against it
Peering down
Into the sleeping town
Just comforted
Assured
That no matter my doubt
He still loved me
No matter my shame
He still cherished me
No matter what
He will be there
Always there
Even on the darkest nights…

After a while
I returned
From whence I came
Coming again
Upon that depression
Like any other
Hidden in shadow

But rather than tread
Boldly into it
I carefully ventured
One foot forth
Into the shadow
And it found no rest
…This shadow
So like the rest
Concealed a pit
A real pit

Now shaking
I fumbled on the ground
Finding a stone
Which I tossed
Into the shadow before me
And heard not the echo
Of its landing
For nigh
Forty-five seconds

In that moment
I understood
Both the cross
And the deception
Of the shadows
From which his love
Has saved me

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consolation

Ah yes. This harkens back to an experience I had when I still worked at HaL Computer Systems. Never told anyone about it, just wrote this brief reflection.

consolation

confused
walls spinning round
struggling hard with panic
and fear

distressed
caged in my cube
vision blurred and shaded
in pain

sudden
from behind me
upon my shoulder lights
a hand

at once
my heart is calmed
moment of clarity
shines through

turning
i look to see
my kindly comforter
and find

nothing
an empty space
with no-one there to meet
my view

yet still
i clearly feel
upon my shoulder warm
a hand

yet still
it steadies me
and warmed within my chest
i grin

it seems
the steady hand
must to an angel friend
belong