Persistence

Delphi tells new people she meets
they wear the face of God.

Those people who see
a demon in the mirror

choose not to believe her
for at least ten hearings.

It is only after the twelfth time
a crack in their marble facades

appears in the faintest
glimmer of a smile

that the unassumed dare
might contain an ecstasy.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

Delphi Sits Upon Her Throne

Her throne is an exposed rocky spot
at the top of a wooded hill.

The stone admits it is not simple granite
but embodies a silent and patient yet local god.

Delphi enjoys laying on the sun warmed rock
and conversing with the local deity.

Their words vibrate the forest around them.
They speak with that much weight.

Sometimes the forest god joins them
in the guise of an animal

or under the bark and in the sap
of the nearest ponderosa pine.

Sometimes the three of them watch the eternal dance
as performed by the stars in the night sky.

Once I accompanied Delphi to the wooded hill.
We sat upon the rock together.

The local god spoke a greeting to me.
I felt indescribably vulnerable

as if its silent voice was a key
that opened me up for the whole world to view.

As fear nearly pushed me past the edge
Delphi clutched my hand.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

Compass Points

At certain angles
Delphi appears to be a long river
with a man standing
in the flat bottom of a rectangular boat
polling it forward.

At another angle
each of her spoken words
forms a picture
of a house that means home
with the smell of hot apple pie.

Head on you see your church
and a bell in the tower
that peals bird songs
and the freshness
of the instant an April shower ends.

From the backside
you see the uninvited stranger
who threatens you
by reminding you to live the core
of your belief set every day.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

Arise

This lumbering sleep
meanders through
the frenzied black.

Delphi slaps the pillow
four times, swats
separate moon beams.

Her trembled body
tasks a whole breath
to a staggered minute.

This curtain I close
traps the moonlight
within the bulbous comforter.

When she wide-eye stares
at me, sees nothing, my startled
breath exclaims her waking.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney