Sailing the Wine Dark Sea

Trekkers

While Captain James T. Kirk

Explored the far reaches of space,

Promoting the best of secular humanism

Or rescuing extraterrestrial civilizations

Or saving life on earth

Or flirting with every shapely humanoid,

His wife, Penelope, waited at home

Weaving the shroud by day

Only to unravel it each night,

Waiting in sorrowful hope.

Or was that someone else’s wife?

No, she was also Captain Kirk’s wife.

And she belongs to you and me

Just as much as to Odysseus.

The Enterprise traverses

A velvet black cosmos

That reflects our own wine-dark sea within.

It is in that inner domain that we encounter

One-eyed ogres

And reptilian warriors.

We learn that the eye is not always trustworthy,

And we see how human wit

Can unravel any Empire’s fearful grip.

It is there that we find the earthly beauty

Of a high school sweetheart,

And can see the bleached bones

Of those who followed

The tantalizing songs

Of another realm.

Look as far back into myth as you can,

Gaze as far ahead in imagination as you dare.

There is a corresponding depth within.

Every day

Is a day spent

Somewhere between sailing the oceans of mythical grandeur

And weaving our mortal garment at home.

                                                                           Charles Kinnaird

"Hope is the thing with feathers"

Distant Hope

There are some days

When one is drained.

Curiosity is flat.

Mental strength is strained

And spiritual energy is depleted.

Today

Watching a goldfinch

At the thistle feeder

Outside the kitchen window

Is the only intellectual inquiry I can make

And the only prayer I can offer.

Yet today

It is all I need

To see hope on the wing.

                           Charles Kinnaird

Hope is the thing with feathers 
That perches in the soul, 
And sings the tune--without the words, 
And never stops at all.
                               – Emily Dickinson

Some Days We See the Fire

                                                                    “Earth’s crammed with heaven,
                                                                     And every common bush afire with God;
                                                                     But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
                                                                     The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries,
                                                                     And daub their natural faces unaware.”

                                                                                           – Elizabeth Barrett Browning

                                                                                              From Aurora Leigh 

Fire in the Morning

I saw fire this morning

As I looked out at the trees.

Its light shined through every leaf and twig.

Flames leapt from behind the bark

The way lightening crackles in distant skies,

While soft fire glowed around every root.

Liz Barrett and I took off our shoes.

I walked on a teeming sea of life

That churned beneath my feet

As I moved across the field.

There was joyful imbalance

When the back of the beast swayed –

The trees and I noticed it for just a moment.

Then just as quickly,

As with a cleansing breath,

All grew still.

I walked back home

On dew-laden grass

While cicadas sounded

From the limbs above.

                                   Charles Kinnaird

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