Valley of the Shadow: A Lenten Journey*

Even here, breaking waves of dunes,
sirocco sting of voices, moan
of wild beasts, and angels,
yes, even here . . .

tucked on the curb of a neighborhood
street, a woman, her Babel of wailing,
salt tears shed for the Rubble
of the world buried under rubble
of once-cities, their families,
tumbled down, even here where, . . .

even now, another woman slips
her electric car from the direction
of someplace to get to, steps aside
and settles next to the weeping woman,
takes her hand, and waits, being still,
knowing nothing better to do . . .

and what of the penitent walking
a labyrinth of prayer, no spool
of golden thread unraveling back to
Before, but rather prayer cards
dropped along the path, crumbs
petitioners bend down, collect
to intercede for those whose only voice
is a penciled plea, step-by-step, for
a fellow pilgrim just around the bend, . . .

not the wild beasts expected, claws
that rend, but angels leading them
to lie down in green pastures
beside still waters, all creatures
of a Peaceable Kingdom portending light
rising along the path, defining
the shadows, light such darkness
cannot comprehend . . .

forty days in the wilderness
piecing the jig-saw puzzle of self,
landscape of sand and stone,
the blue of deep waters,
surprise of vegetation,
so many shades of green
clarified by the gathering light.