Poetry

It snagged me late–
rescued me, truth be told–
at a time when old
passions and occupations
oozed mercilessly
from my soul.

It didn’t happen all at once
but in stages, like a well-planned
seduction: the sensuous play of words,
the grinding rhythms of song,
the fusing drone of prayer–each
enticed at the appointed time.

And when, at last, I stood
naked before its spell,
it planted itself deep
within the creative space and
charged me with the poet’s task–
to turn water into wine
and toast the delicate
marriage of mystery
and truth.

© 2000 Dennis Ference