Just as the world tilts forward, I see
The ancient path grow steep before me,
Where shadows of what was recede
And light burns bright on what must be.
O Soul! Thou standest at the gate
Where innocence and knowing meet:
The golden chain of yesterday
Snaps clean beneath thy naked feet.
Behold! The deer in the road
Has turned to face thy trembling heart,
Its eyes like furnaces of God
That tear the old world apart.
No more the lamb's sweet pasture song,
No more the shepherd's gentle crook
The mountain calls with voices strong
From hollers I dare not look.
Here is the knife-edge of all choice,
The precipice of mortal flame,
Where angels and demons speak with one voice:
"Nothing shall be the same."
I feel the earth shift beneath,
The brake-cord singing under my foot
One breath between the sheath
And the blade's bright command.
The road tilts forward. I release
My grip on what I thought was real.
The world spins into fierce peace.
I am the spoke. I am the wheel.
About the Creator
Tim Carmichael
Tim is an Appalachian poet and cookbook author. He writes about rural life, family, and the places he grew up around. His poetry and essays have appeared in Beautiful and Brutal Things, his latest book.
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By Natasja Rose3 days ago in Writers
Comments (1)
Fantastic. My new favourite of yours!