I am sure I have labored here before
and danced when the day's job was done.
All my introductions and welcomes rush
into the past where smiles and laughter
hide in plain sight and affirm that I feel right
about the decisions which I have made.
Some places and some times have been better
for me than others where I felt less than myself.
Returning home I find all the love that I love
dressed up and ready to go to worship.
Rather than Work - let
us talk rainbows - no - not
talk but throw colors on paper
never seen before - so that
even the eyes of the little ones
go wide - such a display
and no amount of Labor - nor work
at the highest wage - could
bring down from the Heavens -
the perfect crescent kaleidoscope
From Sisyphus and his endless, uphill rock-rolling where we end up
tired as the smell of last night’s cod hanging in the kitchen
or done like a dung beetle after rolling the last dung ball of the day.
Imagine letting the ball fall and go rolling into the sea
where ocean waves release upon the shore
like the unclenching of a fist that has unlearned
the slow steps of a pallbearer treading again and again
upon the sacred ways, red as worn, sanctuary carpet
in the morning light. To skip like a flower girl
throwing rose petals left and right and into the face
of the ring-bearer who carries his symbol of infinite
love, careful not to let it drop and bust, a shattered jar
of rainbow-colored gumballs, where chance
could have them bounce and reel under a pew
and disturb the slow, rolling of bones turning over
in the graves of hard-working saints, long-dead and gone.
I learned to work like this
from Sisyphus who, tired
as a dung beetle after rolling
the last dung ball of the day
up its small food hill, let
his ball go rolling into the sea
where ocean waves like eyelids
rose and fell, leaking salty tears
upon the feet of the child
who trembled like the slow, roll
of bones turning over in graves
of saints long-dead and gone,
never to tread again upon
the sacred ways, red
as worn, sanctuary carpet
in the morning light.
Worker of Wonders and Wonder,
who moves as wind through Chaos
and who fills the skies with cloud-shapes,
we lie awake in torment
guessing with thought,
Will the coming day
be a day for sowing
or a day for reaping?
Make whatever work we choose
and may we have fruit
as the wind whispers
and the clouds roll.