After months recuperating from knee replacement surgery and doing nothing but having phone sessions with patients, I'm ready to travel, take part in poetry conferences. I'm talking about the dramatic monologue in Colorado in July, will be giving readings and talks in Israel in November. Anyone else have an idea of where I can become itinerant? "Creation" closes my New&Selected Poems. Perhaps I was influenced by my conversations with the my old mystic friend Dick Allen, perhaps by a Buddhist monk who visited me before he talked to a crowd in Central Park -- after spending years and years alone on a mountain meditating.
The soul must be rinsed in time
Where Sufis and Baptists stand
With washerwomen wringing shirts
Patterned like mandalas of sand
That monks make and destroy.
Once we stood on a bank,
Shadowless beside a river,
While over us passed a clank
Of geese, invisible and unborn.
Our feathers linnet-white,
We bathed what we must mourn
In waves of broken light.
I write this in the middle of the night,
One finger a moonlit taper
Burning like an acolyte
In a passion of pen and paper.
© 2018 Frederick Feirstein
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to tell him or her. You might say what it is about the poem that moves you. Writing to the author is the beginning of community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -FF