Susan LaffertyIn the realm of heart and soul,
You ask for all.
Hands open,
I give the
fragmented,
flawed,
incomplete all
that I know.
You receive.
Tenderly. Welcoming
broken parts,
scattered pieces
of a repentant,
believing
heart.
You save the sin-sick soul.
New Delhi, 2012. The electricity goes off. Right after a loud explosion. Most likely a transformer that’s blown in the neighborhood.
It’s late afternoon when shadows lengthen and shade our second floor flat. I sit in the dark. And wait.
The mental checklist forms automatically. Honed by long experience. If it’s an extended interruption of power, there are things to do.
Mystery. Mysterion.
One summer night I stand on the porch.
Watching a mystery.
Heat lightning.
Light pulsating in silent, brilliant rhythm.
Illuminating massive white clouds in night sky.
I can’t tear my eyes away.
