Fantasia on a Good Old Hymn – a poem by Russell Rowland

Fantasia on a Good Old Hymn

Any day the Spirit sends could be the one
that otherworldly ladder, Jacob’s, touches down
like a slant of sunshine through rain.

There might be angels ascending, who would 
make way, or lend a hand, as this time
it is my heart, and too many rungs to count.

My house recedes below into a village,
village to dots on undulant landscape, terrain
a mere patch of the quilt.  Higher, higher…

Did I love enough to be called away up here?
Or am I just a child the universe
let sit on its lap awhile and listen to stories?

Careful not to look down, will I reach the top?
Will I find a cloud-swept meadow,
understand at last what the larks are saying?

Russell Rowland writes from New Hampshire’s Lakes Region, where he has judged high-school Poetry Out Loud competitions.  His work appears in Except for Love: New England Poets Inspired by Donald Hall(Encircle Publications), and “Covid Spring, Vol. 2” (Hobblebush Books). His latest poetry book, Wooden Nutmegs, is available from Encircle Publications.

1 Comment

  1. What a beautiful thought posed as a question: “Will I find a cloud-swept meadow,
    understand at last what the larks are saying?”

    Liked by 1 person

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