THE SACRED,
THE HOLY
Poem for Today - August 26, 2014
WHAT IS SACRED
I have no idea what priests
dream of on Christmas Eve, what prayer
a
crippled dog might whine before the shotgun.
I
have no more sense of what is sacred
than
a monk might have, sweeping the temple
floor, slow
gestures of honor to the left,
the
right. Maybe the leaf of grass tells us
what
is worthwhile. Maybe it tells us nothing.
Perhaps
a sacred moment is a photograph
you
look at over and over again, the one
of
you and her, hands lightly clasped like you
did
before prayer became necessary, the one
with
the sinking cathedral in Mexico City rising up
behind
you and a limping man frozen in time
to
the right of you, the moment when she touched
your
bare arm for the first time, her fingers
like
cool flashes of heaven.
© Lee Herrick, "What is Sacred"
from The Many Miles
from Desire.
Copyright © 2007 by Lee Herrick,
published by WordTech
Communications LLC.
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