Jack, Now
He joined the world,
feet first,
early Sunday morning,
toward the end of July.
Somehow he knew,
instinct,
and milk from
his mother’s breast,
first food,
deep in the summer.
Jack knew,
waited,
patient,
suns rose and set,
he breathed
through days,
sleeping during
years.
The boy
knew,
as sure the waves
drew sand
to sea,
soft flannel thoughts
last winter,
he met the minute,
as sure as night.
Walks alone,
prepared for him
by who,
Jack knew.
Angel’s dark,
swept through him
in a field,
on a day opposing,
the day he was
born.
There was only he,
the dark was comfort,
but forever,
no end,
and now he knew,
he’d never know,
when his end
would come.
For Jack, living
was what
burned,
the here,
filled him now,
the beginning again,
for Jack now.
GJH 08
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