Journey's End
By Dick Ringler
The star of love
over Steeple Rock
is cloaked in clouds of night.
It laughed, once, in heaven
for the lad who grieves
deep in the dark valley.
I know where all hope--
and my whole world--
flames with the fire of God.
I throw off the chains
of thought, I fling
myself into your soul.
I sink myself,
see into your being,
live your very life;
each gracious moment
God allots you
flares in my flaming heart.
Alone together
we gathered flowers
high on the heath at dawn.
I wove you wreaths,
reverently laying
loving gifts in your lap.
You heaped my forehead
with fragrant rings
of bright blue flowers,
one, then another;
you nodded and smiled
and swiftly snatched them away.
We laughed in the highlands
while heaven grew clear,
bright at the mountain brim.
Not a single joy
seemed to exist
apart from living our life.
The wise flower elves
wept in the hollows,
they knew we would need to part.
We thought it was drops
of dew and kissed
cold tears from the crossgrass.
I held you on horseback
in the hurtling stream
and felt with fond assurance
I could lift and carry
so light a flower
over all the leagues of life.
Beside the bank
of Boar River
I carefully combed your hair;
eye stars flash,
flower lips smile,
cheeks turn ruby red.
He is far from your fair
friendship, the lad
deep in the dark valley.
The star of love
over Steeple Rock
is burning back of clouds.
The heavens part
the high planets,
blade parts back and edge;
not even eter-
nity can part
souls that are sealed in love.
--------
Another relatively quiet Sunday. Older son called early to be picked up from the bar mitzvah, bored out of his mind and quite upset because he couldn't follow the Hebrew; I'm now worried that sending him for his first bar mitzvah experience to a Conservative synagogue where he only knew the celebrant and not a single other kid may not have been a great move. He was particularly traumatized by the hora, during the course of which people are traditionally lifted up in chairs (and often fall out); he is insisting that he does not want any dancing at his own bar mitzvah. Since it's nearly two years away, I am not stressing overmuch about this, but am sorry he had such a miserable time. Probably we should just have sent him to Hebrew school this morning!
Since the synagogue was on the other side of Potomac, we went straight from picking him up to Great Falls since we were more than halfway there. (Well, "straight" after a detour to Chicken Out since he ate barely anything at the reception and younger son belatedly decided he was hungry for the lunch he'd insisted on skipping half an hour earlier.) The weather was absolutely spectacular, barely 50 degrees without a cloud in the sky, and the sun on the water was so bright that it was painful to look at. There were ducks and geese in the canal and rainbows in the river spray. I took photos but I will post them tomorrow, because I have a treat tonight: go see Gerard Butler as The Phantom of the Opera by Kim Schultz.
Kim has been trying to convert me to Gerard love for months (and keeps threatening to come over and tie me up to make me watch Reign of Fire with her -- she doesn't realize that I have been putting off watching it in the hope that she will, in fact, come over and tie me up). I like Gerard very much but am not really in love with him, so we shall see if Phantom pushes me over the edge.
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