This Singular Life

Marc Chagall

Marc Chagall

glazed worship
Sparkling water
blood dark wine
Holy Eucharist
Our Baptism
in grace

all the red clay
we were we are 
heated passions
turned harder
in a hot kiln
of mercy

There, on
deftly turned
font & chalice
lapis`glazed lies
faith’s mystery
This self`will

Son & Singer
Husband & Preacher
Father & Fisherman

Mantle`like now
the seasons lie
on the shoulders
of this stooping life

Each season has
borne its own fruit
Each has known
as well its worm

What remains then
of my folly & my faith?
Certainly more than I can
afford or might recall

Sadly the unsung
song will soon sound
sweeter by far than
the recorded one

And the softest pages
of this singular life will
remain now & forever
un`written un`read


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
This entry was posted in poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to This Singular Life

  1. you never fail to touch me deeply


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.