How long must I bear
only burdens of regret to you?
We meet in weekends
I crawl with wasted history
into your aching eyes
to rest for months.
I wake behind a cornea,
swim amongst old memories,
to find a pool
of forgiveness only inches deep
but miles wide.
You cry finally, years later,
rivers from my days of sin and sleep.
I fold like raindrops, fall
from your eyes to the floor
and stand to face the burden:
all that love knows is war.
Our meeting was
a composed alchemy -
a change of form preceded
by resounding deliberation;
war completed
by two becoming one nation.
We become harmony in the aftermath
partners in a restoration – transformation -
testing the length and width of our countries
like an archer would test the wind
before loosing an arrow to kill.
We cast ourselves,
two statues from the same pedestal
and learn the solution to division
is not in dividing,
but in a greater union.
It’s been some time since I last posted here. Between school, work, and ministry, my writing has faded almost solely to what has been assigned to me for classes or for functional writing for Threshingfloor. Happily, one of my classes is a poetry writing class, so I’ve continued to produce the occasional piece here and there. My hope is to get back in the habit of posting here regularly, though more than likely posts will be only poetry through the end of this semester. For all you who read, much thanks! Be praying for the work we’re doing here in Fargo to make disciples of the nearly 70,000 young adults and college students. Follow us and stay updated on Facebook.
Grace and peace,
Benjamin Pontius
Warmth is the valleys between
the ten castles of your fingers
and the carved glacial curve of
your throat, not
in the summer air.
Elsewhere is arctic, desolate
of the sweet flood which covers my skin
when the heat from your lips moves
like a tempest to my cheek.
Smiling, you kiss me.
I recall what I
forget the better inches of, so often;
that we love each other
like cloud and sunset, because
when we’re together
the whole world is more glorious.
A strange coupling, this
that you I should take
in heart of my breathe and
like a kingdom of rain
be constantly falling
nourishing
what light, lovely is growing against
the odds of all promise
reforming the walls
upon which
I live.