Listening to Light

$10.00

Cyra S. Dumitru

ISBN 0-9725562-1-4

76 pages, 2003

Praise for Listening to Light:
“In Listening to Light, Cyra Dumitru weaves imagery and theology in narrative voice poems about biblical ­figures, Egyptian myths and others you may think you know. But this is an Adam who finds Eve peculiar, an Eve for whom risking Eden seems worthwhile, a Joseph who knows the bite of a nail, a Mary who feels warmth radiating from cows and sheep, another Mary who loves what cannot be possessed, a mother who fears for a child she does not understand, and a Judas chosen for betrayal. Listening to Light is a collection of poems ‘where God speaks one wave at a time.’ “ – Robert Flynn, author of North to Yesterday

From Listening to Light:

The Perfect Stones

I can’t say I yearned to taste that fruit,
sought the cold adventure waiting beyond.
At times regret wraps long fingers
around my neck, presses
nails into my throat.

I had never seen Eve so alive,
a faraway light dawning in her eyes
pulling her elsewhere.
I knew I couldn’t lose her,
sensed the Gentle One understood.

The hardest part was watching
birth engulf her, ride through her,
horses pounding a thawing meadow.
I didn’t know how to help,
what would happen next.

All I could do was feed the fire, rub
her back as she squatted upon a clean hide.
Then I remembered a song from the garden
and sang our son into the twilight.
Eve lifted Cain triumphant.

After I washed and wrapped him
I bathed her as I would a star.
As she slept beside him
I found the whitest, most perfect stones,
built a circle to hold my family.

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Cyra S. Dumitru

ISBN 0-9725562-1-4

76 pages, 2003

Praise for Listening to Light:
“In Listening to Light, Cyra Dumitru weaves imagery and theology in narrative voice poems about biblical ­figures, Egyptian myths and others you may think you know. But this is an Adam who finds Eve peculiar, an Eve for whom risking Eden seems worthwhile, a Joseph who knows the bite of a nail, a Mary who feels warmth radiating from cows and sheep, another Mary who loves what cannot be possessed, a mother who fears for a child she does not understand, and a Judas chosen for betrayal. Listening to Light is a collection of poems ‘where God speaks one wave at a time.’ “ – Robert Flynn, author of North to Yesterday

From Listening to Light:

The Perfect Stones

I can’t say I yearned to taste that fruit,
sought the cold adventure waiting beyond.
At times regret wraps long fingers
around my neck, presses
nails into my throat.

I had never seen Eve so alive,
a faraway light dawning in her eyes
pulling her elsewhere.
I knew I couldn’t lose her,
sensed the Gentle One understood.

The hardest part was watching
birth engulf her, ride through her,
horses pounding a thawing meadow.
I didn’t know how to help,
what would happen next.

All I could do was feed the fire, rub
her back as she squatted upon a clean hide.
Then I remembered a song from the garden
and sang our son into the twilight.
Eve lifted Cain triumphant.

After I washed and wrapped him
I bathed her as I would a star.
As she slept beside him
I found the whitest, most perfect stones,
built a circle to hold my family.

Cyra S. Dumitru

ISBN 0-9725562-1-4

76 pages, 2003

Praise for Listening to Light:
“In Listening to Light, Cyra Dumitru weaves imagery and theology in narrative voice poems about biblical ­figures, Egyptian myths and others you may think you know. But this is an Adam who finds Eve peculiar, an Eve for whom risking Eden seems worthwhile, a Joseph who knows the bite of a nail, a Mary who feels warmth radiating from cows and sheep, another Mary who loves what cannot be possessed, a mother who fears for a child she does not understand, and a Judas chosen for betrayal. Listening to Light is a collection of poems ‘where God speaks one wave at a time.’ “ – Robert Flynn, author of North to Yesterday

From Listening to Light:

The Perfect Stones

I can’t say I yearned to taste that fruit,
sought the cold adventure waiting beyond.
At times regret wraps long fingers
around my neck, presses
nails into my throat.

I had never seen Eve so alive,
a faraway light dawning in her eyes
pulling her elsewhere.
I knew I couldn’t lose her,
sensed the Gentle One understood.

The hardest part was watching
birth engulf her, ride through her,
horses pounding a thawing meadow.
I didn’t know how to help,
what would happen next.

All I could do was feed the fire, rub
her back as she squatted upon a clean hide.
Then I remembered a song from the garden
and sang our son into the twilight.
Eve lifted Cain triumphant.

After I washed and wrapped him
I bathed her as I would a star.
As she slept beside him
I found the whitest, most perfect stones,
built a circle to hold my family.

 

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