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Poems from Divine Nostalgia by Jennifer Ferraro ©2002

 

       

         The Blood

 

The blood we crave is our own

    and yet

mighty is the need to drown

    and mightier to save

to cup the head that has bobbed

    under, full of dark prayers

sent to wander

full of white dresses with rumors of flowers

    oh this love is god’s hunger

sent wandering in the clover

     dancing flailing in the waving heather

with a voice torn asunder

     by denials, forever.

The blood we crave is a quiet drummer

     a torn-asunder mother

the blood we crave is our own

     and yet

we crave another.

 

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             And the Rest Is Nonsense

 

I don’t care if I’m a dreamer—

dreaming of the perfect lover

is dreaming of You—

and I can use such vivid colors

imagining what’s within your boundaries

I stay drunk for hours in end;

but then of course that passes

and I stumble around mumbling again

creating nothing.

Whether You create me or I create You,

it doesn’t matter.

I’ve tasted Love

and been drunk

and the rest

is nonsense.  

 

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        Envisioning the Morning

 

What garment shall I wear

as I set out on my dawn journey

to the heart of my own heart and the world?

 

There is a secret only I know,

it has entered through the gates of my senses,

it takes me in its arms that are sometimes like

a river, sometimes like a fragrance, always

like an invitation.

 

I will not be wearing the rough cloth

of the renunciant, I will be decked in wedding clothes

on that morning fresh and full

of promise,

 

when I enter for good the river’s arms,

and am entered by the deepest fragrance.

 

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email: jferraro28@hotmail. com

Last update: April 20, 2004

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