A Glove Filled With Music

—Poetry by James Lee Jobe, Davis, CA
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of James Lee Jobe

Something rises out of the east, a new day, like an idea being formed, like a child being born. Light in the sky. Life on the earth. Breathe and it begins.

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I have washed my hands for twenty seconds with soap and music. I have surgical gloves to wear. I have dreamed up a house with invisible walls that let me see the sun and the moon and the trees. Oh let me stay there for forty days and forty nights, like Jesus in the desert. Let me stay there, inside, for forty years. Death is a glove filled with music, and I have gloves to wear, I hear the music. Perhaps you can hear it, too. Listen.

 Anna Akhmatova

After the Nazis were finally driven back, Anna Akhmatova read her poems to the wounded and the dying. Although well into middle-age, they say Anna was more beautiful than ever, and that she had a glow that was ethereal and kindness was in the blue of her eyes. Can you imagine it? The wounded heroes of Mother Russia filled with the rich poignancy that leaps from the verse of the queen.

Rain against the window with a tapping sound. My wife laughing, alone in another room. A sadness for the mounting grief across the face of the world. Things that tell I am still alive.

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Beneath this house are the roots of an old oak tree. Night. All is quiet. I can hear the oak roots moving in the manner of snakes. In this way the roots bless the soil, and so the house above is blessed also. Life is grand, isn’t it? Look around, even now as you read, the world is green and in bloom.

Today’s LittleNip:

The universe is grand, endless and timeless, yet all of it exists in one molecule of liquid, the tiniest part of a tear in the corner of your eye.

—James Lee Jobe

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—Medusa, thanking James Lee Jobe for today’s post, and reminding you that James’ weekly video poetry readings continue this week, posted before 7:30 pm each Friday at
www.youtube.com/jamesleejobe & james-lee-jobe.blogspot.com/. 

 —Public Domain Photo

 

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