The fear of white

I have found there to be voids, like the
times when the stark white of it is blinding
transfixing all attempts at meaningful expression,
mocking my tongue-tied immobility with blank eyes.

A fading memory of grade school reminds me that
figures placed in appropriate order upon paper make sense,
so that is where I begin to break the curse,
to place one or two words, tentative sentences into

the void. But my heart longs for the rush of thought
and the cramping of my fingers as they frantically try to
match the pace of mental discourse around
something glimpsed in passing, a brief transcendent

thought, that should someone happen upon it, they might
feel a catch in their throat or an ache in their gut
and maybe the urge to cry -- Do you know what I mean?
Like when you listen to a particular piece of music, and

it tears your heart from your chest, and leaves you
struggling to breath.

Lesley-Anne Evans
December 2009

Diversity

photography by Claire Evans







The same God; angry, jealous, holy
cracked open bedrock chasms to devour hard-hearted betrayers,
also holds my tears of grief and self-pity
in the palm of his open hand,
delights over me with singing.

The same God; creative genius, humorist
dreamed up aardvark and blue-bottomed baboon,
also considers my heart's response to quail babies
following their mother across my cul-de-sac
in a perfectly straight line.

The same God; mighty, just, compassionate
inspired men and women to leave complacent lives
take up causes of world proportion, like aids, orphans, slavery,
also removes my insecurity, my near-sighted view of life,
anoints my pen.

To God be the glory, forever and ever.

Lesley-Anne Evans
August 2009

I Saw a Poem

I saw a poem

I saw it clearly as I let my eyes linger --
something there
just beyond the obvious

and, like a trout hovering while the fly is cast and
insistently played upon the surface of the pond,
I felt it drawing me

words forming on my silent lips
as God spoke poem into existence
and I, taking the barb-less hook

swallowed deeply.

Lesley-Anne Evans
07/04/2009