The Master - Li-Young Lee

Just a measure of perspective here.  This journey of poetry is very much an exercise of self discovery.  Can I summon the medium to convey in words my thoughts and emotions.  If you've read any of my previous posts you'll see that I am working on it.  Sometimes that work looks like connecting with one of the masters, for me that is Li-Young Lee.  I particularly enjoy this one, I hope you do as well.

Here's to the next step in this amazing journey!

Have You Prayed

When the wind

turns and asks, in my father’s voice,

Have you prayed?

I know three things. One:

I’m never finished answering to the dead.

Two: A man is four winds and three fires.

And the four winds are his father’s voice,

his mother’s voice . . .

Or maybe he’s seven winds and ten fires.

And the fires are seeing, hearing, touching,

dreaming, thinking . . .

Or is he the breath of God?

When the wind turns traveler

and asks, in my father’s voice, Have you prayed?

I remember three things.

One: A father’s love

is milk and sugar,

two-thirds worry, two-thirds grief, and what’s left over

is trimmed and leavened to make the bread

the dead and the living share.

And patience? That’s to endure

the terrible leavening and kneading.

And wisdom? That’s my father’s face in sleep.

When the wind

asks, Have you prayed?

I know it’s only me

reminding myself

a flower is one station between

earth’s wish and earth’s rapture, and blood

was fire, salt, and breath long before

it quickened any wand or branch, any limb

that woke speaking. It’s just me

in the gowns of the wind,

or my father through me, asking,

Have you found your refuge yet?

asking, Are you happy?

Strange. A troubled father. A happy son.

The wind with a voice. And me talking to no one.