Poured Out (liturgical)
Poured out I stand.
Poured out, and standing still.
Poured out in body,
poured out in land,
poured out in a moment
that will not focus
Poured out I stand –
from the child at the lectern,
from the small desk in Tuna School,
from the thin voice learning its letters –
to the dark flight of Voyager,
to the widening silence between the stars
Poured out I stand –
from the burning witch’s cry,
from the furnace of forgetting,
from the scream history buried –
to the three in the fire who would not burn,
to the boy’s pure voice rising in Gesang der Jünglinge
Poured out I stand in the light
Poured out in brightness
until shadow becomes thought
and thought becomes garment –
shirt & trousers,
word & silence
Poured out I stand –
a cup filled with words,
a white day wrapped in fog,
a hexagram glowing behind closed eyes,
a halo that blinds,
an I Ching scattering
like wind on bone
Poured out I stand –
before tarot awakened in winter,
before the shuffle and the omen,
before Minneapolis snow
and the hour that turns the cards.
And Scarlet Rivera,
violin at her side,
steps into the story
as if summoned
Poured out I stand –
half matter, half time,
half breath, half memory,
half here, half now
Poured out where light sifts through old boards –
through barn dust,
through fever dust,
through the soft crumble of feathers and pigeons’ sleep
Poured out I stand.
Poured out still.
Poured out,
and standing
Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin
Written on 2025-11-21 at 12:05
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