Libera Me
The faint scent of skunk
far from sirens & congestion —
steer manure, leaf-change, earth-scent.
Allow me more: to scout out dry husks, wet soil,
to feel mid-day peels, white-breath nights.
Dark-mined mornings with my doves & squirrels
mark the month’s near end. Next year this time late
fall again. Dark days. Libera me, Domine.
Fauré seduces by opening doors, but where
to go through, how or why? Maybe
self-correction or change of course.
His Libera Me, freedom through death, tempts — but
for now I’ll inhabit life, learn from love & rage.
Learn from seeing blind.
far from sirens & congestion —
steer manure, leaf-change, earth-scent.
Allow me more: to scout out dry husks, wet soil,
to feel mid-day peels, white-breath nights.
Dark-mined mornings with my doves & squirrels
mark the month’s near end. Next year this time late
fall again. Dark days. Libera me, Domine.
Fauré seduces by opening doors, but where
to go through, how or why? Maybe
self-correction or change of course.
His Libera Me, freedom through death, tempts — but
for now I’ll inhabit life, learn from love & rage.
Learn from seeing blind.
©2024 Judith Pacht
