Day of Rest

treeline near Orange VA

Deep Snow
The dead might wake into a world like this,

And know its white lost ecstasy their own.

I am a stranger wearing flesh and bone,

Peering beyond my dusty chrysalis.

No scent or sound invades the integrity

Of peace beneath the ermined thatch of pine.

Nor whir of wing, nor quick heart-beat of mine

Shall spill the cradled silence from a tree.

No God of Sinai shatters the timeless pause

With “Thou shalt not.”
But from each holy bush

Love speaks, articulate in this white hush.

Here life and death may meet, obeying new laws,

And mingling as easily as flake with flake.

Into a world like this the dead might wake.–Emma Gray Trigg

Author: WmX

I stumbled off the track to success in 1968, started chasing shadows that summer. Since then, In addition to farm-laborer and newspaper photographer my occupational incarnations include dishwasher, janitor, retail photo clerk, plumber, HVAC repairman, auto mechanic, CAT scan technologist, computer worker and politico (whatever it takes to buy a camera.) I am on the road to understanding black and white photography.

2 thoughts on “Day of Rest”

  1. What a beautiful poem and with the photograph I feel transported.
    I’m back in Mexico, but with family breath and caresses on me, in me still. I floated home.
    Sending peace and love your way!

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