I retired from the SUNY Buffalo English Department in 2004. Have published a dozen or so collections of poems. Such my addiction to the sport of squash racquets my headstone is to read: "ONE MORE GAME?" See more of my poems HERE.
Cloud of Brightness
Who stood in cloud and made it shine?
Stupidity, confusion --- in these, yes ---
then faltering, refusal, feigning;
hiding in these, I returned
toward your presence, cheeks burning,
bold eyes aflame in the hooded places
--- yes, I denied you in these.
I would not go forward,
swerved, balked, evaded;
at every forking chose
the farther way, savoring
everything I put, in secret, between
--- the world my mask, my teasing.
And where you stood, distant, the cloud
thickened and glowed up brighter.
No matter, I would go away farther.
A world off still, I stood
before you, guilty, contrite
(these, too, disguises), and dared not
look away and dared not see
the being, brightness in the cloud.
Nonetheless, in his sanctuary
of punishment a child dares everything.
I greeted blindness, terror
of total dark, the cloud of myself
--- only so, malingerer
in midst of glory, can I
recover my good will
from black mineral.
I cannot spy who sees me,
shut eyes or look aside.
I am seen completely.
So must I wish to be seen,
since law is: of you can we know
in measure as we are revealed.
No other darkness intervenes,
no light bright enough to see.
I know your bashfulness.
Shine now to the blind
your shy epiphany.
© 2017 Irving Feldman
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