de(a)scent

de(a)scent

Blake Victor Kent

courting clouds above the sea,
we bowed our birdy perch
and dropped into a restless deep
walled in, one side and two by
stoney faces bearded old with
unshorn forests and drooping caps of melting snow;
the wooded slopes appeared so near
I urged to stroll upon the wings
and leap from them as from my infant swing.
the sophistication of an aeroplane,
the wonder of flight and genius of man
crouch humbled, beggarly and meek

descending to Dzantik’i is a miracle
and the miracle is the land,
molten heart and plates thrust up
in a jagged, rocky crown, adorned
by caressing wraps of roots
and blankets thick of earth,
pulsing,
weighty,
patient,
waiting.
this is what I came here for.
I, too, should like to beat, slow and sober
like the trees; something here is meant for me—
be quiet now. remain.

and if this solemn planting weight
should press me down into the birthing dirt,
I will stretch forth my seeded wings,
and, taking flight, leap from crown
to crown

---

Blake Victor Kent
Writer & Professor

Blake teaches at Westmont College in Santa Barbara, CA and publishes widely in the field of religion and health. He can be found on twitter @blakevictorkent

Photography by Crina Parasca