What happened this day, I asked –
knowing only it too had vanished
like the others – although I’d seen
clearly that very morning a figure
kneeling in the shadow of a maple
and could keep her in view
until my breath failed and I knew
I had to keep going into the embrace
of one more next day, and so I could
walk on, meditating on what I’d seen
and what I hadn’t ... knowing only
how close in wonder the sacred is
to the profane.
Today’s poem is from Eamon Grennan’s new collection That’s It (Gallery Press)
knowing only it too had vanished
like the others – although I’d seen
clearly that very morning a figure
kneeling in the shadow of a maple
and could keep her in view
until my breath failed and I knew
I had to keep going into the embrace
of one more next day, and so I could
walk on, meditating on what I’d seen
and what I hadn’t ... knowing only
how close in wonder the sacred is
to the profane.
Today’s poem is from Eamon Grennan’s new collection That’s It (Gallery Press)
