Resurgence.

Thus we now discover Candlemas
Deep in this barren concrete city,
Frost white, not a trace of green,
Not a single sparrow darting:
Hand in hand through silent streets
We walk towards the darkened church.

Thus now we discover Candlemas
In a sudden arc of cold intensity
Piercing the depths of this February night
With the fire of revelation.
Barely illuminating hands and faces
Tapers drip hot pools of wax.

Yes now we are consecrate to Candlemas.
Ignoring the priest you kiss my fingers
And smile at me, saying nothing;
In your arms the child is sleeping.

Oh God, How I Do Love Thee! Love Thee!
The winter is dying, spring is now certain,
Soon the white snowdrops upon the Heath.
Oh God, How I Do Love Thee! Love Thee!
The choirboys intone the Nunc Dimittis
Exclaimed to Mary as she entered the Temple.
But I only care that your hazel eyes
Are looking, looking, deep into mine.

I have loved thee since childhood,
                                           Since our first frenzied schooldays
When we larked and we fought and we kicked and we screamed
And we biked and we sprinted across the high Heath.
We raced with our shadows like a pair of mad puppies,
                                          A disorder of fox cubs,
                                          A convulsion of geese,
Young poets of mayhem mocking the dull world,
Of parents and teachers and meddlesome priests.

Oh then we shouted and sang at the raw winter landscape
Our disconsolate, irreverent, disorders of praise,
Rare songs of new shaping rough hewn to our liking,
In that wild pagan language, the spiel of our youth,
A cross breed concoction of ancient and modern
Filched from Anne Sexton, Bob Dylan, James Joyce,
The Beatles, Bill Shakespeare, and expletives of choice.
Oh God, How I Do Love Thee! Love Thee! Love Thee!
Your smile packs the church with whole gardens of flowers.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
February 1st. 2011. - August 21st. 2012. - February 2nd. 2018.
This is a complete rewrite of a poem sketched seven years ago. I think I must consider it to be more or less a new poem, but with the spirit of the original intact, or perhaps even enhanced by the much tighter structure of this new version.