Christopher Yokel's Blog, page 6

Poem: Mother God

Thank you,
mother God,
for this bosom of rest,
the peace of the woods
on a warm April evening,
this lullaby of spring peepers
and birdsong. 

Poem: In The Wind

You,
who are beyond
all names,
all my life
I have sought you in various guises,
attempted to wrestle
and pin you down,
and yet,
here I am, no nearer.

Perhaps you are discovered,
not in the finding,
but in the search itself.

Perhaps you are coming to me,
even now,
on this bench by the trail,
this April afternoon,
in the wind that stirs
the new budding trees.

Easter Sonnet

The Lord of life descended to death’s domain
like falling star into the pit of hell.
Contented he was not to once remain
resplendent in the halls of heaven’s realms.
The mortal stroke he felt, the bitter cup
of earthly pain that all of us must drink,
though heaven born, he bravely quaffed it up
and walked alone up to the harrowing brink.
Death clasped his body in its fiendish claws,
Death gloated over his unfortunate state,
Death swallowed him inside its ugly maw,
he was a victim to our common fate.
Yet he would prove the victor when that morning,
Death torn asunder, he arose in glory.

Review of A Child’s Year

Author and friend Glynn Young has written a kind review of A Child’s Year. You can read it here.

Poem: Ash Wednesday II

Ashes on the brow
of Adam’s children–

dust born he was,
breathed in earth,
but dirt cursed,
a fragile bound mass
of particular particles
Spirit-animated–

image bearing,
though broken,
we stumble
toward
the light.

Poem: Ash Wednesday

Snow
like alabaster
entombs earth.
I can barely remember
the feel of color
on my eyes,
or the sun
on my skin,
now buried layers deep.
And yet,
this nothingness of white
is a blank page,
a fresh start,
a seeping into soil,
a sheet covering sleep
until the gray veil of winter
is torn by spring’s strength,
when rest runs into
waking with the sun,
and the infant bud
gathers to green
as Life emerges again
from Death’s dark cavern.

Prodigal Sons and Fathers in the Music of Springsteen

This week on The Rabbit Room I talked about Bruce Springsteen wrestling with his relationship with his father in his music, particularly his song “My Father’s House”

The thing Bruce couldn’t fix was the darkness of his childhood; the fatherly silence, the sudden rage, the alienation. We hear this irresolution in the ending of “My Father’s House,” where the the dark highway full of unatoned sins lies between the son and his father.

Read more here. 

Poem: Leaf

Leaf turned to stone
in water
mark’s the end
of autumn’s order.

Leaf in the bud,
in rain,
marks the return
of spring again.

Leaf on the tree,
full green,
marks the high point
of summer’s scene.

Leaf falling down,
fire red,
marks the return
of autumn again.

Poem: The Existential Snowman

She knelt there
in the snow
in the middle of Echo Lake,
making her first real
snowman.
We rolled him,
stacked him,
and went our way.

Now it is evening,
and we are several hours
and many miles south,
but I think about him,
standing in the middle
of Echo Lake,
watching the stars come out
for the very first time,
and wondering
where he came from.

My Favorite Stuff From 2018

I’m not sure if any of you, dear readers, particularly care to read about my favorite films, books,...