HOLDING
THE LIGHT
WRAPPED
IN OUR HANDS
for Rob & Jackie
Set
to leave for the mountain
on
Solstice, doorbell rings—
my
friend with music
and
solstice candle—sit,
tell
me about these songs.
His
search begins in desert
heat
of summer. He listens
for
spaces, what came before
and
has roots in Texas,
making
it possible
to
reach across borders.
He
calls on Aretha
our
own me too
Lady
Day and Ella
packed
to travel
Motown
Christ
crossing
out of Pharaoh.
Aretha—our
Moses.
Star
river crossings
in
Solstice Song.
Winter
light in darkness,
visible
and moonish silver.
Music
wrapped
in
First Nation Mountain Wool,
parfleche
for the soul.
Gathered
songs,
Flash-back
Wipe Out
stopping
time vibration
living
time. I hold
his
voice as we light this candle
of
salvation that carries
him
each year
from
here to here.
I
carry his song
and
the songs of others
on
my way to the mountain
temple
at High Camp
in
the Goat Rocks
where
I sit listening
on
this waiting day.
Waiting
is what we do
to
discover time.
Setting
out, never knowing
what
I carry, what will surface,
restlessness
itself
a
form of hope and hoped-for
sufficiency
already present
in
the ringing doorbell.
Jim
Bodeen
23
December 2018
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