Tuesday, November 15, 2016

Ruach (Wilmer Mills)

                                     When I die and breathe my last,
                                    It won’t be in or out.
I’ll take my final breath,
Hailing the silence of glass,
Glass that isn’t a solid,
But slowly cooling back
From molten silica,
The unheld breath of time.
                                   
Once dead, I’ll see the moon
As close as my hand, like this.
Who cares if there’s any water
Trapped inside its rocks
Like all the water trapped
In Bible stories, water
God brooded over, parted,
Walked on, turned to wine?
                                   
I’ll see the story of time
Made clearly visible;
I’ll see my final breath
Annealing, a miracle
Of clarity, of silence
Of water’s opposite,
A perfect silence drawn
From my blood, my noise.
Amen

--Poet Wilmer Mills succombed to cancer in 2011 at the age of 42.
Selected Poems, ed. Kathryn Oliver Mills


In November, we remember those who have died.
Say a prayer today for loved ones who have passed.

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