Today, another poem from the first Proost Poetry collection, this one from Janice Laidlaw.
We have an on-going conversation within Proost about the nature of poetry, as a spiritual practice (accidental or deliberate) or a form of prayer, or a way to explore doubt, anger or protest. This poem does something much more tender—it invites us in.
God Song, by Janice Laidlaw
I am the warp and weft of life
I am the silken dart that furrows
The silver-gold thread that gently chafes
The knot between emptiness and fullness
The crevice that hungrily waits and gapes
I am the fall of soft silent wool
the spool that intimately shaves
a harness from the hood -
forming ever more beautiful graves
from the click and clack of warm wood
Nestle to me:
Breathe with my breath
sink into my velvet bed
and become crushed and cleaving with love
