This Soul You Never Understood

At times you can almost form your
hands around this abdomen, this
football of reminiscence, shaped

and patterned into something so
familiar yet so untouchable,
not to be succinctly described

for we can seldom convey a thing
that cannot be touched by hands
since flesh appears essential for

understanding by those of us who
breathe. At times you sense it clearly,
this twin, this gift from the past or

bestowal of the future. And it is here,
in this sense or glimpse that the hope
can sneak into the crevices of the great

sadness that must be borne throughout
this particular life, borne like some
penance or payment that your soul

long ago agreed was fair exchange,
this trade of knowledge for flesh,
by this soul you never understood.

Already Lynched

Inactivity brings such a disquieting
mood, a foreboding of an evil
that can only be stalled by action,

any action, any movement toward
creation . . . it really doesn't matter
what the cause or course. This is

the stallion on which my soul is strapped
this soul who perversely yearns for
rest and peace, so that I hack and hack

my way through jungles of turmoil
to at last reach some obscure clearing
where I can cease; only once I think

to rest, to consider taking a few breaths
arranged to relax my spirit, the foreboding
immediately begins and suggests I had

better begin hacking myself toward
a better destination. The horse stampedes;
my soul flops like a already lynched body.

There Comes a Loosening

There comes a loosening, a moment
when you can feel yourself pulling
away from your searing flesh, and this

is an escape from pain; your flesh can
go off and afflict you no more, your
spirit can find some small relief . . .

even though you are not yet dead. And
this is what I have to explain, to you,
who are now not yet dead, how you must

find a way to forgive yourself for your
flesh, you, there in the fires of this world
of yours, there in the flames of your own

disbelief in mortal powers. Then once
you have found a way to forgive yourself,
you must uncover the means to forgive

everyone else with whom you live on this
earth, although I know this will not be as
difficult as the first task. But in the end

you will be given the most difficult penance
of all, there in the fires, you will be asked
to forgive your gods, a better loosening.

Artist's note: Joan of Arc (1412-1431) earned, in the words of Louis Kossuth, an imposing distinction: since the writing of human history began, she is the only person, of either sex, who has ever held supreme command of the military forces of a nation at the age of seventeen. Although she achieved many victories for her beloved Dauphin, by age nineteen she had been tried for heresy, then burned at the stake. She was also the only person in history ever canonized as a saint of the Catholic church who had once been executed as a heretic by the very same church.

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Biography

Ward Kelley has seen more than 700 of his poems appear in journals world wide since he began publishing in 1996. A Pushcart Prize nominee, Kelley's publication credits include such journals as: ACM Another Chicago Magazine, Rattle, Ginger Hill, Sunstone, Spillway, Porcupine Literary Magazine, Pif, Electric Acorn, Melic Review, 2River View, Offcourse, Potpourri and Skylark. He has been honored as featured poet for Seeker Magazine, Physik Garden, Poetry Life & Times, and Pyrowords.