David Michael Lippman

The color of burntblue was there on a sunday’s eve clear skies and murky water  like the leftovers of a childhood memory waveuponwave, like an endless rhythm beats brave drums beneath a twilight heaven swing to and fro, softer than a leaf resting on the breeze the weight of the world was lifted and taken far away from me— but still remains this pain holding a raw and bitter heart— what questions told not to ask anymore and still feel their beat in the dark swollen soul, moving in and out of my mess like a fish, i catch you in the glance and miss your eye— though you never miss mine— when in all my ways you caught me , i don’t know? and when in all my ways i realized, i'm not alone? and how will we go from here when we lift the veil of pain? i really can’t imagine it gone, and me still remain. swift comes the morning and evening something is left behind and i have searched the earth in her age— only to long and pine for what, i cannot place it, a face, a friend i never knew, dream o

where does the earth sit when she feels tired?             is there an cosmic bench on which she can breathe out deep breaths from weariness?       where does earth rest when trodden and worn down          when the spinning arcing looping days             have worn long wrinkles                of brown and grey clouds streaking north and south?       when does the world ache her ache             and feel her weight? can she give her wounds away    to the care of other worlds?       has saturn stretched its rings to her          or jupiter its moon       can mars cry red tears          or mercury draw near? will the sun’s rays warm earth’s skin    when dawn breaks in early morn          (a reminder of her molten strength                         boiling at the core)? earth, your spinning face,    seems stern and wearing out… how and where and when and why       are questions full of doubt—          i wish to take your soiled form          and wash it white as snow,          yet there is

i do not think i’ve found     this place that you have gone i’ve climbed up to the mountains     i’ve searched over the dawn i’ve traced my steps to hell     i’ve wandered o’er seas yet, o jesus, where you wander     still seems dark to me. i’ve clamored over bookend     i’ve scaled education i’ve lost a lot of friends i’ve met with every nation and still i’m looking for     this place of quiet rest jesus, come to me and show me         where it is...