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Do not worry that your love’s beauty
Will dazzle me,
Blind me,
Keep me
From my daily bread.
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Do not worry that the bursting
Notes of your anvil
Will stun me to dead stillness.
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Do not be anxious.
Let your giving fall
As the rain.
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I will take
The bucking wildness
Into a pasture so deep
That no one will hear
The hoofs beating the earth.
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I will swaddle
The screaming miracle
Succor it with silence.
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Do not be anxious
Of giving’s peril.
Let your love fall
As the rain.
This so called labor of love.
How like the pear tree
In my backyard
With its imperfect fruit.
How can I bear like you?
So natural and unstruggled.
So at ease with your gift.
It is not logical to hear such a melody
this late spring
when the rains are still cold.
I had to stop when it first came,
its beckoning unrecognizable
or too familiar.
How can the frozen earth not
crack
to such song?
How can the numb cardinal not
sing
to the first sun?
It was almost too late
the sound of the first rain drop.
I stopped only because it hurt.
That dark echo.
That flash of sound.
-Francisco X. Stork
March 29, 2010
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