Four Poems by Chuck Harper

This post contains four poems by my friend Chuck Harper, a retired pastor (United Church of Christ) but a very active poet.

They're worth reading independently of this, but the immediate motive for posting these here is for folks who may have been listening to "The Sunday Show" on KTAL-LP, 101.5 FM [or stream at www.lccommunityradio.org ] Sunday, May 13th, 2018 (9-10 a.m.).  Chuck was my guest, and I asked him to read the four poems below.  Poems heard on radio can fly by real fast, so for anyone who liked these, . . .

[All Poems Copyright Charles Harper]

ACROSS THE ROOM                                                         

                                                                                     

How often in the evening hours we sit

together, though apart, in this room, each

within a lamp-lit circle, books in hand.

Tonight I lay my book aside, look through

soft shades of intervening space at you,

luminous in amber surround of light.

Sometimes you catch me at this game and ask,

What are you staring at?  Of course, you know.

Tonight you seem oblivious to my gaze

through long, long shadows of the fifty years

between this moment and that night when I

first awkwardly declared my love – or almost did.

Do you remember what I said?  I think

I am falling in love with you. As close

to ecstatic affirmation as this careful

boy could come.  Your response teetered on

the brink of saucy as you teased, You have

my full attention.  Keep me posted.

I did – until one day we both declared,

straight and clear, I love you!  You were nineteen,

spirited and beautiful.  Sometimes I miss

that girl – miss us both as we were.  Tonight

across the room I see this girl again,

radiant with light that only years can give.

I heard him read that at Palacio's one night, then again at the 2017 annual For Love of Lit reading.  It moved me tremendously.  I felt immediately, as I said during the radio interview we recently recorded, that it would be hard to find a more direct and moving portrait of young love . . . lasting decades.  If I recall correctly, he wrote that around the time of their 50th wedding anniversary, several years ago. 

   

About a year ago, Pat died.  (In fact, that For Love of Lit reading occurred while she was already in her terminal illness.)  Not immediately, but when he was ready (or, he likes to say, when Pat told him to go ahead), he wrote poems about, as he would put it, how their life together has changed. The three that follow are from that series, and are in chronological order.  I like each of them, find the progression interesting, and look forward to what's next.  (Fortunately we are in a poetry workshop together!) 

      SACRED SPACE

      We are alone

      in this hospital room

      Your surgeon has just left

      after telling us you are dying –

      a few weeks at most,

      perhaps only days

      Our tears are calm

      like these that now moisten

      my eyes as I write these lines

      I sit on the edge of your bed

      wordless –

      my hand caresses yours

      Time has vanished –

      Silence

      When time returns

      we find words

      to speak of our love,

      the immense good fortune

      of a long life together,

      our sorrow that this adventure

      is soon to end

      Our voices are hushed –

      We are in sacred space

          CONVERSATIONS

          These common daily exchanges

          that old folks, long together, have,

          did not end when you died

          I profess to know nothing

          about what lies beyond

          one’s final breath

          except the obvious decay

          of bone and flesh – and memories

          held close by those we’ve loved

          Yet, my conversation with you

          goes on.  Perhaps a lonely monologue.

          Though deep within my heart

          it seems a dialogue quite like

          we’ve had across our many years

          together – at times with words

          Sometimes a nod, a smile, a knowing

          wink, a hug, a look.  Silences,

          then and now, whispering

ACCOMPANIED

Together

on this cloudless, huge-sky

Saturday morning, trekking

up the mountain to Dripping Springs

I’ve hiked this trail often

but this is a first for you

You reminisce about yesterdays

when, because of chronic back pain,

you sat on the porch of the ranger station

waiting my return

You say you were content

watching the acrobatic antics

of Black Chinned Humming Birds,

reading your book, enjoying your view

of the high desert foot hills

sloping down into the valley

You continue – Since I died

I can go with you anywhere. 

I’m quite free

I’m sorry for your grief and loneliness.

By now you have figured out this is

a chronic condition.  Like my former

pesky back, your pain will fluctuate,

less to more, but never go away.

You can handle it

I am happy that you are happy

with my new freedom to be with you –

wherever

A Jack Rabbit crosses our trail.

Further in the distance three small birds

flash by too quickly to be named.

With binoculars I scan a high ridge

where once I had seen a mountain lion

I pick up the pace.  You stay with me.

Marvelous!