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Two poems by Anthony Crutcher

14/2/2020

Silence

I am Silence.

When God spoke to the formless void
at the beginning of time;
I was there giving meaning to the sounds,
transforming them into commands.

When God questioned Adam and Eve;
I was there in the midst of the questions
helping them to understand their deed.
I was the essence of their response.

I dance between the music notes
and make the sound so sweet.
I give rhythm to the drum
and melody to its’ beat.

I am the response
when love’s trust is destroyed.
When hearts are bruised and tender
they suffer in my embrace.

I am present in life and death,
explaining both of their mysteries.
When life walks out of the body
it is my song that fills the ear.

I am Silence.

And If I Should Fall, Then What?

It is complexed - frightening - this asana called life.
I bend and twist, surrendering to it.
My mind, my body, my spirit, taxed.
And if I should fall, then what?

Frightening, complexed, this asana called life;
I bend and twist losing sight of the familiar
mind, body, spirit, disoriented.
And if I should fall, then what?

Fear of losing the familiar brings pain.
Fear of the unfamiliar brings anxiety.
Mind, body, spirit, disoriented.
And if I should fall, then what?

Breathe away the familiar.
Breathe into the unfamiliar.
Breathe and know what you cannot sense.
Breathe mind, body, spirit into harmony.

And if I should fall, then what?

Breathe and fall into compassion,
fall until you touch pure love.
Breathe and fall, fall and discover
harmony with the universe.

(A native of Chattanooga, Tennessee, Anthony Crutcher is the husband of one wife and the father of two children. He discovered poetry as a form of self-expression and encouragement to others. After a career as an economist he now concentrates his efforts on writing and teaching yoga)

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Three poems by Barbara D’Emilio

7/2/2020

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Reclaiming Red

Red is the color
of the body bag
spiritlessly zipped
on the gurney.

A sagging haze settles on the empty bed,
no longer
the centerpiece of our lives.
The numbing silence
of the unplugged oxygen tank
persists.

No words
just hugs
long hugs longing
for answers

Possessions bestowed as gifts
or tossed;
photographs,
her life paralyzed in time,
dropped into boxes,
destination unknown.

A son’s heartfelt eulogy
fills the small church
with gravity,
and questions.

A community gathers for a potluck
sharing stories of blessings and mishaps,
the weight of the incomprehensible

A black lettered “FOR RENT” sign
soon appears on the door
where the “Welcome” wreath
once heralded the
warmth of her greeting.

Red is the color,
scarlet red,
Barcelona red,
of the geraniums
boldly bursting
into bloom
in her garden.

Core

In these our final years,
I am an unwilling witness
as the pernicious intruder
fills your limbs with tremors,
even as you sleep.

The words that once connected us
are fleeting whispers
as you struggle
to capture meaning.

I watch as you search
for the scent of jasmine in spring,
the smell of Beef Wellington in Patti’s kitchen.
admirably accepting a life in four senses.

Searching your face for
expressions of joy, love, focus,
I often find distraction,
lethargy.

I wonder how to make peace
with your slo-mo pace
as the world around us
accelerates and obfuscates.

Yet, I hold on to the hope,
the belief perhaps,
while nothing is certain
our core is impenetrable

Into the woods

the rivulet cascading down the darkened bark
as a heavy downpour awakens the earth.

the daffodils bursting with color,
harbingers of better times.

the rust colored buds
tightly cocooning
the promises of spring

the mallard duck undaunted by the rain,
maneuvering knowingly
as the angry creek rushes downstream.

the robin hopping in the open field
in search of wily worms
or a handsome mate.

the lone human traveler
on this trail
here and now
casting uncertainty into the
fertile soil.

(Barbara D’Emilio, a long-time educator and poet, lives in Washington DC and finds inspiration and solace on the trails of Rock Creek Park. Publications include: What's Ahead: Transitioning from Adult Education to a Career, various articles on family involvement and most recent poetry in District Lines, Volume V.)

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Two poems by Anthony Crutcher

Three poems by Barbara D’Emilio

The Beautiful Space-
A Journal of Mind, Art and Poetry.

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Two poems by Anthony Crutcher

Three poems by Barbara D’Emilio

The Beautiful Space-​A Journal of Mind, Art and Poetry.

Archives

Categories

The Beautiful Space-
A Journal of Mind, Art and Poetry.