Tuesday, April 2, 2013


Nearer My God, to Thee, nearer to Thee!
E’en though it be a cross that raiseth me.
Not a cross but a mountain
Melissa Corey Peak.
This is what I climb
What brings me nearer.
Nearer to Thee
Still all my song shall be, 
nearer my God to Thee!
Up we walked, pulling all our worldly
for the weekend, anyway
behind us in creaking wood
rutted wheels
Though like the wanderer;
the sun gone down.
Only not, the sun beats at us
not black and blue but pink
sticking white gold shirts to our backs
caked with trail dust.
Darkness be over me,
 my rest a stone.
I am stone, only
stone wouldn’t hurt so much
aching fingers as I pull
Yet in my dreams I’d be 
Nearer my God, to thee.
No waking dreams, no distractions.
Beside me, a girl lets go of the cart
moaning about hurting hands.
Throat dry, I try to tell a story
but the words run out of my head
like water from my empty bottle.
There let the way appear
steps unto Heaven.
Steeper than before, dust so thick
my feet have no purchase
we slide back two steps for every three.
All that Thou sendest me, 
in mercy given.
Peppermint candy from one hand-made pouch
sets my mouth on fire
I need the sweet, something to rinse
the dust from my mouth.
Angels to beckon me
nearer my God, to Thee.
We are separated, Pa leaves
And the brothers.
So sisters lean forward on the bar
on the backboard
with all their loosing strength
Women’s pull.
I am weaker than I have ever been
Weaker than flu or fever ever left me
Or if on joyful wing
Cleaving the sky;
I am so stooped that hemline
and bonnet strings both reach 
the dust.
I am breathing it, part of me
but still the sky seems to near.
If I could reach one hand  away
from my burden
I could feel its silk.
Sun, moon, and stars forgot
upwards I fly.
Around me, we ache
each leg and arm straining
so weak
but never in my life have I felt
I am made of thin bones and strands of muscle
small and low
but my feet keep skidding forward
through dust and stone.
Still all my song shall be
nearer my God, to Thee.
It is not a song, really
but a cough, choking words
with some faint tune
We are not a choir of angels
but dust covered girls
weak and strong
breathing out and in-
Nearer my God, To thee-
nearer, to Thee!

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