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The other day I was in the elevator at a major Boston hospital heading to the 16th floor.  The elevator was full of people; visitors carryi...

Thursday, December 9, 2010

A poem I share with the bereaved.




I Am Fishing for God

I am fishing for God,
using my heart as bait.
It is just before dawn,
the slightest hint of
pink bleeds into the
night sky.

I use my pen knife to cut the
hole in my chest,
reaching behind the
pocket of my shirt.

What a tough muscle
to pull the hook through.

The heart is astonished
to be in this other world
and trembles and shivers like
a moth discovered in daylight.

I try to calm it by stroking it,
by telling it that it will all be ok,
but what do I know.

The breeze picks up and
chills the cavern
in my chest.
It feels good to
be empty at last.

I cast my heart
across the water.

I cast it again
and again.

Sometimes it floats on
the surface,
other times it sinks
below.

Something will strike at it
that I can't see. I pray
I am using the right bait.

The tough outer layers
soften in the water.
The heart grows
smaller, more pliant.

It has become a beautiful
blue jewel. I begin
not to recognize it.

Was this me?
It waits. I wait.
The boat rocks
slightly in the breeze
lifted and lowered
by the tide.


Copyright © 2004 Stuart Kestenbaum