The Emerald Mosque on the Hill (Monday Poem)

 

By Raza Ali Hasan

 

In the lull, the afternoon sun warms
the linseed field. The flowers are quiet,

their bright subdued in the green
while the mind wanders

to the emerald mosque upon the hill,
built around a flowing spring,

the easy absolutions and ablutions
in that mosque where the spring water

has been let loose to meander
over marble courtyards and inner chambers,

across the geometric, green-tiled floor that
cools the heels of the faithful.

 

from Grieving Shias, by Raza Ali Hasan

The Sheep Meadow Press, 2006

Dust (Monday Poem)

 

By Dorianne Laux

 

Someone spoke to me last night,
told me the truth. Just a few words,
but I recognized it.
I knew I should make myself get up,
write it down, but it was late,
and I was exhausted from working
all day in the garden, moving rocks.
Now, I remember only the flavor —
not like food, sweet or sharp.
More like a fine powder, like dust.
And I wasn’t elated or frightened,
but simply rapt, aware.
That’s how it is sometimes —
God comes to your window,
all bright light and black wings,
and you’re just too tired to open it.

from What We Carry, by Dorianne Laux

BOA Editions, Ltd., 1994

At Blackwater Pond (Monday Poem)

 by Mary Oliver

At Blackwater Pond the tossed waters have settled

after a night of rain.

I dip my cupped hands. I drink

a long time. It tastes

like stone, leaves, fire. It falls cold

into my body, waking the bones. I hear them

deep inside me, whispering

oh what is that beautiful thing

that just happened?

 

 

from Devotions by Mary Oliver

Penguin, 2020

V Sabbath 1991 (Monday Poem)

 by Wendell Berry

The seed is in the ground.

Now may we rest in hope

While darkness does its work.

from This Day: Collected and New Sabbath Poems by Wendell Berry

Counterpoint Press, 2013