Volume > Issue > RHYTHM

RHYTHM

A POEM

By Susan Heyboer-O’Keefe | September 1985

You are the maker of maps,

Straight edge and compass in hand.

I am horizons unknown:

Lead they to ocean or land?

 

We meet upon lines of our chart

To puzzle out the sly and subtle art

Of marital intersection: heart to heart.

 

Quadrant by quadrant we move,

Plotting our course with such care —

Pen and ink symbols for love,

Paper for essence laid bare.

 

Life’s meaning is created by its frame

(For without rules, one cannot play the game),

And even love grows deeper for the same.

 

Yet on a night without stars,

Hope bids us break measured pace,

Yield to multiplied love,

Trustingly leap into grace.

Enjoyed reading this?

READ MORE! REGISTER TODAY

SUBSCRIBE

You May Also Enjoy

The Hill Country

Take for instance Mary; she

shocked by some divine insistence.

Yet the experience of God,

Paradoxical in the Extreme

Evidently a man of coarse, even slovenly, personal habits, Au­den was as meticulous as T.S. Eliot in the precision of his verse.

Faith

Trellised clouds upwards towards

earth’s moon

Set within a night-dome

of…