(In California on an evening walk with my camera, in Bernal Heights, San Francisco)
Tonight a cavalry of evening sounds gathered suddenly on this recently sun-setted hill
above San Francisco. I’m sure there were ghost there, but also saints unseen
All of us are sinners, but the hope this sonic stampede brought was tangibly present
in the afterglow of day.
We are not above our past, in fact we meet it on evenings like this, but
Jesus, again, turns out to be the Reply to their voices–I watch, as He exchanges
conversations with each voice individually, in a way, i could never do.
I’m impressed again, and thankful we met long ago, and i said then, as now
that He was the most impressive being I’d ever encountered. I hear
of people meeting Christ in their dreams. This does not surprise me ever
as i met Him in a sort of waking dream. I never believed in religion, but He
was another matter. Tonight as i overhear all their voices conjoining, and as the memory
of a particular day settles again into the Bay, i am strangely happy to be
part of the grand overarching narrative-the stream of poems whispered through time-that is life itself. I don’t know, right now
perhaps a church bell might even ring and say yes, this was, a good idea.