Listening to Light
Cyra S. Dumitru
ISBN 0-9725562-1-4
76 pages, 2003
Praise for Listening to Light:
“In Listening to Light, Cyra Dumitru weaves imagery and theology in narrative voice poems about biblical figures, Egyptian myths and others you may think you know. But this is an Adam who finds Eve peculiar, an Eve for whom risking Eden seems worthwhile, a Joseph who knows the bite of a nail, a Mary who feels warmth radiating from cows and sheep, another Mary who loves what cannot be possessed, a mother who fears for a child she does not understand, and a Judas chosen for betrayal. Listening to Light is a collection of poems ‘where God speaks one wave at a time.’ “ – Robert Flynn, author of North to Yesterday
From Listening to Light:
The Perfect Stones
I can’t say I yearned to taste that fruit,
sought the cold adventure waiting beyond.
At times regret wraps long fingers
around my neck, presses
nails into my throat.
I had never seen Eve so alive,
a faraway light dawning in her eyes
pulling her elsewhere.
I knew I couldn’t lose her,
sensed the Gentle One understood.
The hardest part was watching
birth engulf her, ride through her,
horses pounding a thawing meadow.
I didn’t know how to help,
what would happen next.
All I could do was feed the fire, rub
her back as she squatted upon a clean hide.
Then I remembered a song from the garden
and sang our son into the twilight.
Eve lifted Cain triumphant.
After I washed and wrapped him
I bathed her as I would a star.
As she slept beside him
I found the whitest, most perfect stones,
built a circle to hold my family.
Cyra S. Dumitru
ISBN 0-9725562-1-4
76 pages, 2003
Praise for Listening to Light:
“In Listening to Light, Cyra Dumitru weaves imagery and theology in narrative voice poems about biblical figures, Egyptian myths and others you may think you know. But this is an Adam who finds Eve peculiar, an Eve for whom risking Eden seems worthwhile, a Joseph who knows the bite of a nail, a Mary who feels warmth radiating from cows and sheep, another Mary who loves what cannot be possessed, a mother who fears for a child she does not understand, and a Judas chosen for betrayal. Listening to Light is a collection of poems ‘where God speaks one wave at a time.’ “ – Robert Flynn, author of North to Yesterday
From Listening to Light:
The Perfect Stones
I can’t say I yearned to taste that fruit,
sought the cold adventure waiting beyond.
At times regret wraps long fingers
around my neck, presses
nails into my throat.
I had never seen Eve so alive,
a faraway light dawning in her eyes
pulling her elsewhere.
I knew I couldn’t lose her,
sensed the Gentle One understood.
The hardest part was watching
birth engulf her, ride through her,
horses pounding a thawing meadow.
I didn’t know how to help,
what would happen next.
All I could do was feed the fire, rub
her back as she squatted upon a clean hide.
Then I remembered a song from the garden
and sang our son into the twilight.
Eve lifted Cain triumphant.
After I washed and wrapped him
I bathed her as I would a star.
As she slept beside him
I found the whitest, most perfect stones,
built a circle to hold my family.
Cyra S. Dumitru
ISBN 0-9725562-1-4
76 pages, 2003
Praise for Listening to Light:
“In Listening to Light, Cyra Dumitru weaves imagery and theology in narrative voice poems about biblical figures, Egyptian myths and others you may think you know. But this is an Adam who finds Eve peculiar, an Eve for whom risking Eden seems worthwhile, a Joseph who knows the bite of a nail, a Mary who feels warmth radiating from cows and sheep, another Mary who loves what cannot be possessed, a mother who fears for a child she does not understand, and a Judas chosen for betrayal. Listening to Light is a collection of poems ‘where God speaks one wave at a time.’ “ – Robert Flynn, author of North to Yesterday
From Listening to Light:
The Perfect Stones
I can’t say I yearned to taste that fruit,
sought the cold adventure waiting beyond.
At times regret wraps long fingers
around my neck, presses
nails into my throat.
I had never seen Eve so alive,
a faraway light dawning in her eyes
pulling her elsewhere.
I knew I couldn’t lose her,
sensed the Gentle One understood.
The hardest part was watching
birth engulf her, ride through her,
horses pounding a thawing meadow.
I didn’t know how to help,
what would happen next.
All I could do was feed the fire, rub
her back as she squatted upon a clean hide.
Then I remembered a song from the garden
and sang our son into the twilight.
Eve lifted Cain triumphant.
After I washed and wrapped him
I bathed her as I would a star.
As she slept beside him
I found the whitest, most perfect stones,
built a circle to hold my family.
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