Two poems by Deborah Lawson

Frozen Liturgy

Snowfall,
frosted filigree, shaped
yet ever changing.
Overlay of silver hangs
on bare-boned trees.

The night is at prayer,
a shimmering worship as
peace falls, solid as darkness.

This is jewellery
to wear on the soul,
a litany of snow
memorized like
icy rosary beads, slipping
past guilt to kneel
in the clean revelation
of grace and forgiveness.

A fitting adornment for the season’s
long sanctuary of darkness,
winter-lit by the lacy candles
of rest and redemption.



Fear of Surgery

now I know
about anaesthesia
the loss of control
as sleep seeps in
     no finger crookable,
     no eye winkable,
     no thought thinkable

no one ever finishes
the countdown

I dodge the eerie approach
of this small death, fixed on
one fading but certain conviction
     This is just an impostor,
     a tiny little practice run, perhaps,
     not at all the real thing.
I cling to resurrection's hope,
knowing that eventually,
     numb with relief
     at my narrow escape,
I will emerge
from that phantasmal anteroom,
able once again
to crook, wink, think …

still myself,
counting down

©2012 Deborah Lawson