Kimberly Beck

POETRY

Pocket Prayer

I carry it around with me
in a message on my phone, typed
and re-typed;
on the torn page of a leather journal, folded
in my pocket like a sleeping
crane, or a heron, or
a swan. Now and then it stretches
and lifts its wings, feathers brushing
over the tips of my fingers as I reach
for the ink, for the soft, snow-bright page.
I carry it in a memory,
I carry it in a night of despair,
in a desperate prayer,
in the promise of the sun
as it rises, at last, by some miracle,
every morning, again
and again, and again:
Great is Thy faithfulness.

Man of Sorrows

But what does it mean
when they call you
Man of Sorrows?

I search for answers in a
long, scarlet thread, which is sewn
so delicately through the leaves
as they fall around me, on paved
trails,
on puddles gathered at the feet
of arthritic maple trees,
on park benches and sidewalks
and the last green patches
of dew-swept grass.

I search for answers in the heron —
always the heron —
his blue cloak, his thin shoulders,
the way his silhouette sings
above the river
and the willow tree, the way he
is hidden, but only
if you are not looking for him.

Man of Sorrows,
I stand beside the river, and
I watch the ducks, as I always do,
admiring their dancing, the gloss
of their feathers flaring
in a show of northern lights
above the still, grey water.
And I imagine Your hands
are holding them up, all the way
from the bed of the river,
from the weight of the deep dark.

Kim is a poet from Washington State. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Solid Food Press, Ekstasis Magazine, Clayjar Review, The Penwood Review, The Amethyst Review, and more. She is also the author of a poetry collection called Chiaroscuro.

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