Poetry selection from the 2008 issue
Dusk: Isle Sur La Sorgue
by Jonathan Blake
We sat outside at the edge of the terrace
Of the café when the man two tables away
Said heatedly to his companion, “I want to see the churches,
Dammit. To know their god. It’s why I have come.”
Soon they were gone. A strange fury departing.
Desperately searching the heavens
Of vaulted ceilings, I imagined. Seeing,
But not knowing their hearts,
No closer to transcendence.
After tomatoes and bread and wine,
We sat in the stillness on the hill
We had climbed above the small streets
Of the village. Elizabeth smoking. Both of us
With coffee. Late sunlight changing the mountains
Of Luberon. White peaks shining like marble.
Beneath the rose sky, the laughter of children
In the park beyond the river. The river singing over stone.
Sat like that until the stars. Alone.
Happy. Unafraid there was less time
To live than we had already lived.
Saying nothing. The coming of night
The only language between us. The stillness.
Knowing some days the blessing
Of being is enough. All there is.