My time spend at Laity Lodge recently gave me some much needed focus for my writing. Being able to spend time with fellow travelers on this poet’s road was amazing to say the least. Being able to sit on a patio being guided in this by Scott Cairns, a poet I like an awful lot, was three steps beyond amazing, frankly.
Our time together in the workshop was centered around writing poetry in the “midrash” tradition. Midrash is a way of approaching and engaging scripture, it’s a kind of “conversation” one has with the existing text and in effect, with texts that intersect as well.
Thought I might share the fruits of my labor, as it were…so far. I am feeling as though this will become a series of poems…in due time:
Being Creator Himself, He knew something of the task. Raising
nothing into something was not without labor. The gathering
—mud and sand, bone and sinew—setting them just right, singing
over the open wound where a shared rib was taken, was given,
while each note knitting flesh left it clean. Even offering breath to
untried tissues bore a price.
Whether they would live was no question, His work—already well
established elsewhere and in other genres—held great success,
witnessed great promise. Still, the whispered question hung in the
air of His inhaling, and gave pause: “Where are you?”