wilderness

by chris fillebrown

i crossed the bridge into town
toward setting sun
behind angles of rooftops
coming from desolate landscape
through which i wandered
from another edge of town

small shed window light
shone from twilight silhouette
warm light structure hewn
beacons through impending night

i approached window
slowly to see within

a potter sat
on his stool working
lump of clay
footkick slowly
spinning wheel
long fingers
dripping water
from a bowl
centered clay
dug from river bottom
footkick slowly
footkick slowly
spinning pedal wheel
kicking rhythmic
heavy spinning
slender fingers
drizzled water
breathing heavy
breathing meaning
strong hands
shaping sloppy clay

i looked around the room
light from lampstand
burning brightly
wicktrimmed
trayed with jars of oil

clay pots stood
on shelves and tables
buildings of a town
brightly lit on lamp side
lost in darkness otherwise

hands pressed
down on center
turning walls
begin to rise
fingers working
muddy masses
take the shape
of base
of sides
hands to bowl
bowl to water
feet to stone
turning rise
wheel spinning
turning clay
potter hands
made womanshape
high art
very deed and doing
out of chaos
nondecay
footkick slowly
heart beating
footkick slowly
pulse and breath
unblinking gaze
not distracted
by exertion
breathing life
in mud

i noticed slick mostly water
too wet to stick to forming sides
like rain drops off a mountain top
slip and friction
flow through fingers
slipping under fingerprints
part of making of the pot
but part of pot no more

i left the window
returned to bridge
descended into shadows between banks
below the bridge
found a place
at the edge of flowing water

town fallen into slumber
still air to breeze gave way

on my journey to this place
at one point hungry
without bread
i met a stranger on his way
when he learned i had no food
he offered me a stone
said it would sustain me
i took without delay

sitting by the river
i took the stone
from my pocket
held it in my hand

i wandered all my years
never settled
added darkness
from my eyes
to shadows
of towns and nations
sought to slip
unnoticed face
despite my very being

truth set forth plainly
gospel veiled
distorted visions
of the perished
eyes fixed on things not seen
wasting at the edges
death at work in me
quick lips’ replied with words
i cannot speak to them
they do not want to hear
words took me to the river

i looked at the stone in my hand
gripped it tight thumb and fingers
threw it hard across the water
stone skipped one time two times
three times four
then dropped into the waters

the waters were
peoples
multitudes
nations
languages

i listened to
the rattling bracelet
of moonlight dancer
on the water
below the reach
of window light
unblinded mind
unshrouded vision
outcast
not by them
but me
not perplexed
crushed
persecuted
struck down
abandoned but
abandoning those
who would
or are

wilderness

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