Dear Orion

Oracles and priests of Persephone,
The birds cheerfully herald the coming of their mistress
And I am struck with the sudden pang of future loneliness –
Oh, Orion! My old friend!
Stay this year and see the Summer.
Must you constantly pursue your prey?
You know how futile it is
(Can a man really run as fast as a hare?)
And I need you to stay with me.
Spring is coming, but my soul
Is full of cold, ice, and dead leaves.

Oh, Orion! How can I face the Summer,
If my heart is still gripped by Winter?

Palm Sunday Meditation

A man on a donkey, crowds with palms,
Cries of "Hosanna" transformed to cries of "Crucify" –
These are not just the deeds of ancient man,
Brutish, uncouth, savage, unenlightened,
But my deeds.
Hypocrisy proclaims "Hosanna" and brashly swears fealty, homage.
Yet my secret cry is a whispered shout "Crucify";
Sinner, unclean wretch that I am.