Gloria in Profundis
I sensed it in the rock
compressed a thousand feet below.
I saw it in the cardboard box
where some humanity must breathe
the stench of garbage that was once inside.
I heard it flung across the aisle in antiphon
to angel choirs who tend to chant
rom pannacles I cannot touch.
It sang in winds that moan
around the corners of the bar
where dead men go
to stare at life again,
or hope to...
glowed in execution chambers
as the light dimmed one last time.
It showed in the exuberance
of little men in trees--
then within the fires of Hiroshima
when they took away the sun.
I think resplendance is not privy to the heavenly hosts
who woke the shepherds one dark night.
I'm told it bursts out unannounced
among the handicapped, the hopeless,
and the one who understands their plight.
Perhaps I too, shall see it close at hand,
for there in Bethlehem's stark cave
is all the glory I can stand.
This poem perhaps should be submitted at Christmas time,
but I share it now as a milestone in the evolution of my
spiritual thought. I wrote it some time ago. Certainly,
I have since left the large portion of my religious faith behind,
but it marks a takeoff point in my constant quest for truth.
While its literal references are a thing of the past for me.
the luster of the experience is not.
Copyright © Robert Ludden | Year Posted 2013
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