POETRY: Three poems from: THE TRAVELER’S NOTEBOOK

THE WHEEL


The art of poverty is a spinning potter’s


wheel
sometimes


Throwing a masterpiece, most often not:
do you


think


God is not the master of His craft?


The clay of my undoing is spun
round


and round


The doing or undoing mere dust


in a storm
called form:


So if I let Him take the wheel gone
the art and gone the pot
my dust absolutely
lost in His.


____________

PURE GOLD

Will you trade this for That,


this earthen pot
for that thing


Which is pure gold, not


something


to touch or see


but


A light to live within
a radiance


Dressed in the spun garments
we call


Revelation!


____________

 


FIRE ALARM


My house burned to the ground
my heart melted in the raging


fire


Lit by Your contagious love.


Didn’t You know that fire
ignites fire, didn’t You know


a glance,


A look, a whisper can reduce


Lead to liquid, a stony heart to
fragmentary dust, did You just

see


A sucker for love when You looked?


Now I know I have to live
in the house of the heart:


with You,


Alone to burn in Your alarming flame.

 

—Sharon Marcus

 

 


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