Sharon Dolin

 

Blue Window (10 a.m.)

 

 

It could be any window—

bricked arch Rapunzeled

and brisked out to sea

white caps to capsize

the view of You the sighs of

 

You capstanning me.

 

It could be any languid blaze

of distance as the day’s page

turns over its maples

to the breeze and spartinas

the surface of water gone 

 

spangled white in the ascending

note of bright. Shine, shine

as I fumble inside

the origami’d heart of

how to climb out of this sluggard’s tower

 

how to fire up these gifts for You

when I live in a world that has sped up

the day (early morning compressed

to a lozenge of light) has even

done away with praise

 

and I am reeling You in as You are reeling

 

me in without the tug of each

other how can we exist though You did

before there was a me and do not need me

except to repair the crack in the shattering

(with prayer) that took place at the burst

 

of Creation. So dazzle me lapis—

carnelian—cobalt —the richest indigo

You can  utter. Now pour it down

on this ten o’clock sea-plunge

where I must dive

 

to rise to You.