May 19th 2016

on why i’m not a classicist

Comments: 6 Topics: , ,

BlountPark-033

I’m called by things that break my heart

A lone and solitary window

A sad and lovely song

A sagging ridge

A lazy eye

An impossibly low ceiling

The lilt and swagger of time’s appendage

All eloquent imperfection

For though my heart is cracked

Light now enters

And I hear what I could not before

This blue and tender voice

Takes me home

And in the walls is the voice I trust

These places where I’ve heard truth

And truth was somehow always beautiful

So my eyes wander

Looking for evidence

And it is always there

Always there

Always

In this broken state

Is tender invitation

This I can do

Here I can love

 

Bobby McAlpine
Finding Home

6 comments

  1. Cindy White says:

    Oh – Just lovely…

  2. Hank Immler says:

    At the end of a long harrowing day such artful beauty is a blessed reward! Thanks for sharing these sensitivities!

  3. Ann Williams says:

    So lovely. So insightful and tender. Thank you!

  4. Kass Wilson says:

    Very well written and thought provoking.

  5. Karen says:

    You have shared a window into your soul!
    Merci, Karen

  6. hazel says:

    so very true and eloquent – thank you

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