Jesus and I Lose Him in the Fumes that Rise above the River
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
When I looked around
Over my shoulder, the man
Was lost in his mist.
~ Shiki [Englished by Phillip Whidden]
He disappears among his mists, his faith
And sins, both colored equally in red.
He once had underarms and hair, this wraith
Who joins himself to haar, his curly head
The un-red grace, like Absalom’s (whom king
Adored). The blackness of the swirling hair
Is lost — its stunningness can almost sing
Like Gabriel. The man, his curls as snare,
Considers he can swim the lightning bolt
Because of mystic meditation, made
Because the God of love will not revolt
Against him. Jesus loves. The man has prayed.
The flash strikes Shenandoah’s curling wave . . .
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