by Lloyd Haft
(1) [Mattthew 1: 1-17]
Our workings, our wrestings
are knowings from ever.
Ours was the name, ours the sense
the fathers, mothers suffered.
Not in one of all the lives
was longing not along.
The generations brought us
this longing that wrought us.
(2) [Luke 1: 26-35]
A virgin longing
on beyond the ties and bonds
in all the shames and shadows.
Ever is longing on beyond all shame.
Ever in shadow comes the voice
no law has ever led:
‘Let me give you this I am.’
We carry through, we hand along
a felt, a heard,
a shadowing of longing.
(3) [Luke 9: 23-24]
We that the image falls to,
falls upon,
weighs upon –
we walk with it,
talk in its direction,
try to keep the measure
of the one we are becoming.
Every day we shove that shadow,
shove God’s shadow on ahead.
(4) [Mark 4: 30-32]
What’s in us is
a mustard seed,
of all our seed
the most invisible –
until the bird
discovers us
and roots us up.
We’re the ones whose branches,
whose leaves the birds of heaven fall
to earth to find:
shadow that they need.
Our image is a seed:
a trash along a roadside,
on gravel,
in thorns.
But once the seed is broken –
is opened! –
there is another in it.
An ugly one along,
a with us in becoming,
an also-comer in us, by us, through.
‘Am I bad, or am I mad?’
Which is lighter,
which more light?
The one we are becoming lights,
shows us through,
knows us through,
is us through whichever.
‘I come to bring not peace
but light.’
Clarity: you are the fire;
you’re also someone’s brother, someone’s
weak sister.
Faltering father, mute mother?
– that’s where you’re the fire.
