Kiss the Sun

And Two Other Poems

Issue #7

Kiss the Sun

The sun rises casually
in the east, bright orange
and full of hope that
another day will blossom
into a rose. I listen
to the wind suck the air
out of my lungs and wonder
about the gods strolling
naked through my garden.
She is a memory of my past
and the mother of my dreams.
I worship at her feet
and bow before her beauty.
We were lovers when the gods
danced, and the cattle slept.
Now, darkness has settled
over my eyes, and I see
nothing but the pain I've
caused and the heartaches
I've given. Even the new sun
has forgotten my dreams,
and I wander through the garden,
searching for an apple to eat
and a woman to love. She
has left me alone and without
hope. I kiss the rising
sun and prick my finger
on a thorn. Rose petals cover
the ground beneath my feet.

---

Notes

These poems were written in 2004 and are less about stories and more about images. You may find more meaning in listening to the words. Read them aloud to yourself, or listen to me read them.

I find that there are several themes that reappear in my poetry.

• Images from nature. My seven years of writing and reading haiku may have influenced this.

• Spiritual elements. The Mennonite Church and Biblical stories were a vital part of my youth, though you may not recognize God as I portray him.

• Lost love. Many of my poems mention the loss of a lover, often through death. I am unsure of this source since I have been faithfully married for more than 50 years.

• Farm imagery. I spent the first eight years of my life on a farm and the next ten in a small farming community.

---

Paint the Moon

I remember the rain
on my face as I walked
through the deserted streets
of my hometown, in search
of a young boy who lost
his way. Sometimes my heart
speaks volumes, and I listen
to the rhythms of my speech
patterns. She was my partner
in another life when the cats
lingered by the door, waiting
for a future driven by machines
small enough to fit in the palm
of your hand. God opens the door
and welcomes me home. I taste
the vinegar on his lips and smell
the tobacco on his breath. We 
must find the answer to the riddle
and solve the problems devised
by our enemies. I walk through
a picture window to my heart
and paint the moon a bright
silver on the stage of my future.
Sometimes, we remember little
of where we have been and forget
to hold hands with our neighbor
or to bake her a cherry pie.

---

Wild Wind

A wild wind tugs
at my hair and forces
me to remember the look
in her eyes when she
slammed the door in my face.
We were lovers of dreams
and held fast to our habits.
God forbid that we compromise
our values and our behavior!
I listen to the rage
of the thunderstorm as
it pounds my eardrums.
Too much rain has fallen,
and I must wait for the sunshine
to forgive her for her breach of trust.
The wild wind whips through
the rafters of my mind
and punishes my thoughts
with doubts and despair.
She will return from the grave
and grasp my flesh with
her bony fingers. I will
hide in the shadows and
count dead chickens. Sometimes, 
we forget the moment of our birth
and listen to the ghosts who
haunt our memories. Even
God walks in His sleep and
wakes screaming in terror.

---

Thanks for reading.