At Thomas Merton’s Grave
by Spencer Reece
We can never be with loss too long. Behind the warped door that sticks, the wood thrush calls to the monks, pausing upon the stone crucifix, singing: “I am marvelous alone!” Thrash, thrash goes the hayfield: rows of marrow and bone undone. The horizon’s flashing fastens tight, sealing the blue hills with vermilion. Moss dyes a squirrel’s skull green. The cemetery expands its borders— little milky crosses grow like teeth. How kind time is, altering space so nothing stays wrong; and light, more new light, always arrives.
Last night Lynette and I went, via the magic of Zoom, to The Elliott Bay Book Company for a poetry event… it was no mere event. The event itself was poetry.
It was a conversation between two writers… two friends… two people of warmth and kindness: Spencer Reece with Kathleen Flenniken. Kathleen is a PNW poet and served as the Poet Laureate of Washington a few years back, while Spencer is an Episcopal Priest currently serving in Jackson Heights in New York.
Last night Kathleen masterfully facilitated a conversation that felt more like holy ground than a book reading. They engaged one another with such delight, respect, and curiosity that I was drawn deeper in to my own humanity just by listening. He shared from both of his new books: The Secret Gospel of Mark: A Poet’s Memoir, is just out and will be followed next month by, All the Beauty Still Left: A Poet’s Painted Book of Hours. Below is a link to the conversation hosted by Elliott Bay Books, I recommend skipping to 2 minutes, 35 seconds to hear Rev Reece tell a “dirty joke,” and then keep listening. It keeps getting richer… you won’t want it to end.
Learn more about Spencer Reece & his writing:
Learn more about Kathleen Flenniken & her writings:
Peace, dwight
