Dig Into The Cleft And Live There
May 6, 2009
A poem in meditation on the life of Chuck Gulick and our many conversations about Spirituality and Stuff.
Read Exodus 33:17–23
born Aug 8, 1955... died Apr 30, 2009
Dig into the cleft and live there.
You know you’ll be alright.
You know there’s a Face of Light
Who’s ready to singe your eye-brows
If you peak too soon, if you overlook the sediment and debris,
If you forget to carve out castles by the sea.
***
But somewhere a glint of glory slips through
The fingers of God, and thankfully you trace the multi-faceted plummet–
Wondrously you recall your days at the summit–
“Not cool! Not cool!” you shout at the pain!
“Not cool! Not cool!” you pray to the Name!
***
Dig into the cleft and live there.
In Manhasset, you’ll collect stamps from Berlin.
Under your pillow you’ll stuff pajamas and begin.
Again you’ll preen stories in the mirror. Just to be nearer
Your brother will travel like Siddhartha.
Your sisters will anoint like Mary and serve like Martha.
***
And somewhere a glint of glory slips through
The fingers of God, and thankfully you trace the multi-faceted plummet–
Wondrously you recall your days at the summit–
“How cool! How cool is that!” you breathe in the air!
“How cool! How cool! you conquer despair!
***
Dig into the cleft and live there.
You’ll streak once more on campus in newer skin; not a soul will be ashamed.
You’ll paddle hilariously through fog beyond the picture frame… and…
This is where the true crab pots are hauled, where, in your kayak, you’ll
Drift, totally enthralled. Linger a moment here. The Fire’s Feast is round the bend,
Just off the road you took to Port Townsend.
***
Yet, somewhere a glint of glory slips through
The fingers of God, and thankfully you trace the multi-faceted plummet–
Wondrously you recall your days at the summit–
“I’m cool! I’m cool now!” you offer a smile.
“I’m cool! I’m cool! Let me sleep for a while.”
***
Dig into the cleft and live there.
You’ll bless Ted, Liz and Ben; they’ll savor
the fossils without saying Amen. And then you’ll bless Patti
with new seeds to scatter. She’ll plant them out back–between The Viking and the ladder.
And somewhere, we admit, a glint of glory slips through.
And somehow, we declare, we see it better because of you.
