June 28: A Poem by Darrell Bourque, "Night Prayer on Returning from Tuscany"

It has been a long day, but I wanted to leave you tonight with a poem by a poet I love.  I met Darrell Bourque about nine years ago when he conducted a writing workshop at the university where I teach.  He is a lovely, generous man and an absolutely marvelous poet.  And a former poet laureate of the state of Louisiana.

I've chosen something from Bourque's book Burnt Water Suite.  It's a haunting lullaby of a poem titled "Night Prayer from Tuscany."

Saint Marty wishes all his disciples sweet dreams.

Night Prayer on Returning from Tuscany

O little room, O sweet little space
that takes me in without question.
I open the yellow door on the black
you offer like some dark embrace,
night-skinned lover throwing the arms
around the returning beloved.
Before anything else--the touching
of bellies, the ebony hand
on the back of the neck, the touching
of faces--before anything gets asked
about the light out there,
about the air you walked in,
about the colors in those distant cities
you bathed yourself in.
O sweet little block of darkness open,
O sweet little room flanked by others
just like it where my friends lie
like elder monks drifting to another world
on day thoughts
--the problems and the progress of the acolytes,
--the weeds in the herb garden,
--how full or how empty the tithe barn is,
--where next year's lavender seeds will come from.
The only sound in this sanctified lightlessness,
a snoring so light it quivers just above
their faces.  And above my own face,
my own hymn:  O holy little space,
O sweet accepting darkness.  O holy
little room.  O little room divine.

A truly wonderful person all 'round