Light's Temptation

The sun is bright and I have

the blinds closed blocking

my vision differently 

than the sun blinding me.

There are many ways given

not to see

                which often provides

a comfort to the eyes

and heart and soul

and, therefore, body.

The grace by which the unseen

is given is the grace of the yet

to be seen

                   more fully, more clearly,

not fighting to see the obvious.

"Wait.  I say wait."

                             and the light

tempts us to look before we can see.

              The Silence of Light

In the silence of light 

I often hear what 

I cannot see and so like

a blind man know by ear

what sight cannot give.

I grew up hearing my parents'

voices from a pulpit

and always have thought

there's scripture to be heard,

songs that catch the heart

so when I hear a voice,

a melody I am caught

in the sanctuary of spontaneous

worship

            knowing the only offering

I have is myself

and try to give as good

as I've just got in the silence

of light.

-Byron Hoot

This Again

The words of the  mind are not

the words of the heart.

                                That's the difference

between craft and art,

fantasy and dream,

infatuation and love.

                              Two questions often confused:

What do you feel?

What do you think? are not the same

question.

              So much harder to get the illusive,

often more silent, language of the heart

just right.

              So much easier to begin

with A and conclude with Z.

For a long time, I spoke the language

of the mind;

experience has corrected me accordingly

to my joy and sorrow

                               though always I hear

the admonition, "Don't throw the baby

out with the bath water!"

and that echo of laughter.

-Byron Hoot

Uncertain until Then

Each day I am given something,

each day something is taken away

in the asymmetrical act 

of living.

             I know  the ebb and flow

of gain and loss

                         sometimes being able

to tell what has given,

taken away;

                    often, though, not 

knowing what I've gained, lost.

It's another day.

With one hand I hold a bag

of gold, with the other

a beggar's bowl

and the only word I know

comprehensive enough 

for each --  I say, "Yes."

-Byron Hoot

That Love

I was thirteen.

She was seventeen, maybe

eighteen.

               She lived with her grandparents

and all three attended my father's church.

and we were in the basement

in a Sunday school classroom

and then my hand to her breast

sliding into an unbuttoned blouse

as we kissed

                      and then our hands everywhere,

lips on each other as she guided me and I felt her breath

or God's or both on my neck

and that surge that would change 

everything and her smile as we pulled

our clothes back on

                                she going up one and I

the other stairs.

                       And everytime I feel that breathing

on my neck, I am haunted 

by that breath I felt, that human panting

and something else felt

in the basement of the sanctuary.

-Byron Hoot