Two Poems

Before a Resurrection

These are last hours before last hours,
and the flowers, earthen syntax between
sign and sign, between your life and mine,
bound in silence to the ground at night,
where I wait, not knowing which words
to say as proof that to rise and worship is right.

 

Rewilding

We are to imagine the wren awake
at night between birch and fern,
the sun-vacant scenes of green bleak
like homes that will never be. And it
rises from some damp slate of earth,
glad without us, to be rehomed by flight,
the sight a sign to us that stand below
in a brittle pass of moor and bone,
the secret chance in us all, that
which future we have we do not know.


Travis Wright

Travis Wright's poems have appeared in The Brooklyn Quarterly, Dappled Things, Ekstasis, and Anthropocene, among others, and have been recently anthologized by Little Gidding Press. He lives in Cambridge (UK) with his wife and children, where he is finishing a PhD.


'Two Poems' has no comments

Be the first to comment this post!

Would you like to share your thoughts?

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

(c) 2024 North American Anglican

×