Words from the Hold of the Ark

For the Unity of Berkeley Congregation
By Roy Dean Doughty
Written 3/2/08

Together, we sit quietly in the tall bowed hollow
Of a building that has translated sunlight
Into wood and warmth and protection,
And because the sun is still here, ambered
By the mellow devotion of human labor,
Our meditation swells up into the rafters —
So much aspiration and pain and piteous
Supplication now transfigured into something
Beyond ourselves, transfigured into unseen
Streamers of etheric light that swirl into orbs,
Which, like dew drops molding opals
On morning’s glass, grow larger, each one,
Until, one by one, they snap together,
Forming a lustrous pool. When we open
Our eyes, and look up, we can see that pool,
Our faces and bodies all suspended there,
As diaphanous imprints of hope and hurt and prayer.
Yet, after all, it is only an amber glow
Saturating the bent timbers of the rafters,
And to say that these meditations are enough
To transfigure their meditators is to speak too heavily,
Too obscurely about what is more potently expressed
By the soft luster of light on arching wood.

2 Responses to “Words from the Hold of the Ark”

  1. patricia Says:

    Roy’s poetry is wonderful

  2. patricia Says:

    I wonderful how this works

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