Pocket Bible

“The Bible is the beginning, the source. But every beginning is also in us, thus you carry in yourself your own Bible, your own Book of Koheleth [Ecclesiastes], and your own Apocalypse.”
Anna Kamienska in Astonishments

What a fortunate frame of reference
with its beginning, middle and end

from creation through growth
and years of work until the last day

a day of revelation of what it all meant––
the purpose in living and now in dying

unless some unforeseen event
has cut the ribbon of life short

as with Thomas Merton shorting out
in an electrical moment. Snap!

But no, let’s go for the fan unplugged
for the lights turned safely on

when we see clearly that we were
called, and to what and why and

how to fill the remaining pages of your
life’s book with text and illustration

of what you have seen and what you
have tasted. Tell it all. Share the wealth

waiting to be written and drawn.

To Bury or Burn

Judith Robbins’ latest collection of poems, To Bury or Burn, sweeps
across the spectrum of life, leaving in its wake moments of joy and
grief, childhood and motherhood, poets and their poems, and the
company and loss of cats, all of it against the backdrop of the
natural world.

The book is available from Amazon
https://www.amazon.com/s?k=to+bury+or+burn+judith+robbins&i=stripbooks&ref=nb_sb_noss

from the publisher, North Country Press
https://www.northcountrypress.com/to-bury-or-burn.html

from Barnes & Noble
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/to-bury-or-burn-judith-robbins/1135167314?ean=9781943424535

and from most bookstores.

The Size of Hope

Humbled by a spider whose web
I compromised, I apologize to this mite
a thirty-second of an inch in size.

Having noticed its perfectly formed web
with the spinner at center, resting up
for the lesson it was about to teach me

the possessor of greater size but lesser
sense compared with this fellow creature.
An exploratory poke undid perfection.

Repentance is hollow, as I know it’s too
late to undo the damage I’ve done.
But not too late to learn this lesson

and to leave untouched the rest of the web
whose author is once again resting––alive––
I hope––to possibly spin again.

Sun

The warmth of sun straightened my back
from the question mark of older age.
In my seventh decade, I found the sun
worshiped in all places and times
of the living earth and understand
why as statement rather than question,
my straightened back all the answer I need.

The Watchers

Three watchers dressed in black
stood shoulder to shoulder in dream.

They looked at me through a building
of brick, no visual barrier for these

who had come from another place
to reassure me I have no guilt

in telling the truth. I take their gaze
with gratitude. It isn’t love, but justice
in their look.

 

The Gift

Second sight is having an eye
that can see through the glass darkly
as if a natural light were lit, and what
had been hid from others was seen plain.

Another kind of second sight followed
the removal of cataracts. That first morning
after surgery, eye patch lifted
I caught my breath at what I saw––

No visitor from the other side but the clear
lines of trunks of trees, individual blades
of grass, daisies awake, white and gold
and looking me in the eye.