This Is Not A Cloud,
That Blows Across The Sky
In A Stretch Of Time 05/04/1985
__________________________________
Mother, what is this disquiet?
Because I come & go?
Contrary to what you seem to know,
There is no house, here,
That does not have a floor of dirt.
No, I do not **** my thumb,
But, if you listen to your heart,
You will see my smile.
Now & then companion grief does knock.
Here, our chief, he owns the air
And is stranger to none.
Ah, what you seek!
You can find it in the eyes
Of the stranger who rocks your cradle.
I, who overhear the conspiracies of angels…
Do you think I can spread the sky,
Raise roof beams,
And yet have no remedy for tears?
Constant is the questioning.
The happiness on high
Is as great as the grief below;
And yet, where you stand,
They are united.
What is the mystery?
Over the hill a trumpet calls.
Job 7: 9,10
Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 3:00 PM UTC
This Is Not A Cloud,
That Blows Across The Sky
In A Stretch Of Time 05/04/1985
__________________________________
Mother, what is this disquiet?
Because I come & go?
Contrary to what you seem to know,
There is no house, here,
That does not have a floor of dirt.
No, I do not **** my thumb,
But, if you listen to your heart,
You will see my smile.
Now & then companion grief does knock.
Here, our chief, he owns the air
And is stranger to none.
Ah, what you seek!
You can find it in the eyes
Of the stranger who rocks your cradle.
I, who overhear the conspiracies of angels…
Do you think I can spread the sky,
Raise roof beams,
And yet have no remedy for tears?
Constant is the questioning.
The happiness on high
Is as great as the grief below;
And yet, where you stand,
They are united.
What is the mystery?
Over the hill a trumpet calls.
Job 7: 9,10
I came up with the title not knowing the Verses from Job. They were pointed out to my later.
I've been digitizing poems of mine from early 80s to the early 90s for a collection titled "Shoal Waters".
Request permission to use this poem