If you have never read any of Kenneth Olembo’s poetry (Kolembo), then you have missed out on some of the most incredible, extraordinary, beautiful, disturbing, engaging, thought-provoking poetry that you will ever read. Over the past year we have become not just what I refer to as “Blog Friends,” but True Friends. We have been walking on a path we chose to take, a spiritual journey together, for almost 100 days now (100 being the goal), and the “no-holds-barred” diary of that journey can be found here. You are invited to read, share, comment, or even to make your own “entries” through your comments.
I have had the audacity to ask him to write a poem for me – he has not been posting his poetry for some time now, and in an attempt to “kick-start” his poetry writing, I told him that I would write one for him. I have used this week’s Wordle as the jumping-off point for this poem for Kenny.
Drawing on the Edge
The last sheet of paper was crumpled,
longtime wadded; once flattened,
each fold has become a fuzzy frayed line,
already drawn, no pen used,
no ink marring the falsely random,
studied design of welts and scars.
And what would be our art?
What prayer made upon this
fragile paper canvas, that must be shared?
If we should split it between us,
nothing would be left. We are ready
to draw; unable to avoid bruising
our knees and elbows as we crouch
down to kneel upon the dry sand
on which this medium will be changed,
altered in our way. Both of us
will add our chosen imprimatur,
a seal of our own life’s blood.
I see your chiseled features, so near
to my own, and hear the beat of
a heart. Overwhelmed by confusion,
I do not know if it is yours or my own,
but in the crash and crush of our
blinding doubt, I know at once
it is not ours, but the pierced heart
of the one who kneels alongside.
The light that bursts around us,
the light that has opened our eyes
is the glow of pardon; forgiveness
not just from ourselves, but through
the eyes now cast upon our seals,
that we have set, at last,
upon the edges of creation.
I wish for you all, my Gentle Readers, the abundance of enough. . .