The University of Texas at Austin

Law in Popular Culture collection

The Legal Studies Forum
Volume 30, Number 1/2 (2006)
reprinted by permission Legal Studies Forum

Lawyers & Poets
Walk This Lonesome


JAY BRYAN
________________________

Once You See the Hawk

■ November 29

a poem each day,
in whose light I kneel and pray,
candle lit for you.

■ November 30

blow your (w)holiness
trumpeting into her ear—
keeper of our bones.

■ December 1

will always love
you, I will always love you,
my always true love.

■ December 2

the last walnut
this Fall lands on our tin roof;
smell those spring violets?
[435]

 
■ December 3

a chickadee hops
astride the bare oak tree branch;
snow fills your footprints.

■ December 4

our hands held in light,
our hands held in dark, so tight
oh lord, hold us now.

■ December 5

look, wind-spun birds—
do they fret for their next meal?
buy a Christmas tree.

■ December 7

you call me, I come,
you call me, I come again,
come to nurse a friend.

■ December 8

spiraling tree-shadows
dance on our neighbor's siding—
your prayers thunder through me.

[436]

■ December 9

is there another way
to see the world fresh and whole?
show us, lord, show us.

■ December 12

believing invisible
you, we skate on, on black ice
that others fall through

■ December 13

god is your witness,
father-mind-mother and courage,
I am your servant.

■ December 16

praying mantis
sits, waits, watches and wonders—
she will be answered.

■ December 17

the harder you work
the harder each day it is
to surrender.

[437]


■ December 18

lonely cardinal
trills to the morning sunrise—
your phone is busy.

■ December 20

these ever waking minutes,
peace, love and god be with you,
forever and forever.

■ December 21

purple swallowtail
floats among black-eyed susans—
civilization.

■ December 23

not judging or reproving
we see through a glass darkly,
then you and I, face to face

■ December 26

tired, faceless leaf
blows across the empty street—
your past, discarded pain.

[438]


■ December 27

once you see the hawk
you will always look for him
and see him everywhere.

■ January 1

Qui plantavit curabit—
he who plants preserves;
you, a mustard seed.

■ January 3

You lie and I walk
apart, among shadows of
death, fearing no evil.

■ January 7

be of good cheer, now;
I am here, here forever; so
do not be afraid.

■ January 10

a pattern language echoes
from all you've planted—
I hear and harvest.

[439]


■ January 14

spiritual work—
our prayer and thought, your suffering—
deserves holy rest.

■ January 15

where trunk and limb join,
I surprise spring peepers
waiting May's sunlight.

■ January 16

have mercy on us,
have mercy, most merciful
god of all mercy.

■ January 17

a friend's letter to you,
groping for reassurance—
for us the bell tolls.

■ January 20

let this night there be—
one touch, one look, one forgiving—
let this night be

[440]

■ January 21

perfect butterfly
perfect freedom—
god's wonders never cease.

■ January 22

the hickory bush
outside your room never changes—
sparrows fly in and out.

■ January 26

this night, now, I pray,
let her cries be answered and
her tender wounds healed.

■ January 28

its blurred mystery
works but doesn't tell us how—
a sudden healing.

■ January 29

when we awaken
we will all be together,
no longer dreaming.

[441]


■ February 2

loon family calls to each other,
as stars cover the lake,
songs against darkness.

■ February 3

around the porch lamp
flies a sparrow, disoriented—
we too circle the Light.

■ February 4

we trout swim together
unaware the osprey hovers,
choosing one of us.

             ‡

in the exploding froth
trout scatter; one gets lifted—
struggling to be free.


■ February 9

let me hug you once,
let me hug you twice, oh let
me hug you forever.

[442]


■ February 10

mist covers a still pond
in whose waters a heron pauses—
your face appears to me.

■ February 12

every night, tucking
our children in bed, I pray,
god, bless and keep them.

■ February 13

hold still. hummingbird
nears its nectar, deer their stream,
and you your healing.

■ February 18

neither work nor play
can separate me from you
or our minds from god.

■ February 19

yellow daffodil
heralding spring's resurrection
breaks winter's spell.

[443]


■ February 21

snow-crows cough and caw
top our motley mulberry tree
about our "foolish" pact.

■ February 25

don't we know, don't we
realize, we dare not squander
these precious moments.

■ February 26

         — from Mary Baker Eddy

Father-Mother-God,
guard her while she sleeps
guide her feet to thee.

■ February 28

used cicada skin
under the magnolia tree—
shed your body and sing.

[444]


Epilogue

My wife, Carroll, passed away on February 28, 1993. With one eye always open to the eternal, she lived her forty-four years immersed in the life of the living.

In the summer of 1978, she took class at the First Church of Christ Scientist in Boston, Massachusetts, and became a practicing Christian Scientist. As I welcomed her home after two long weeks away, little did I know the challenge that her beliefs would eventually bring us. During our next fourteen years together, Carroll worked with joy and fervor to understand the tenets of Mary Baker Eddy, the founder of Christian Science, and to practice them. Not many knew of her search; for all of her wit, love of life, joy, and dramatic flair, her religious beliefs were not for debate or dramatization.

On November 9, 1992, she was called to follow these beliefs absolutely. They require all healing to be achieved through prayer and understanding of God, and, as a result, abstention from the use of physicians and medicine. She never hesitated in choosing to follow her faith, and from that day forward, did not use medicine or seek medical intervention.

One afternoon, she looked at me for a longtime, and finally said, "You are a witness." Through these poems, yes, Carroll, I am a witness. Created in the light of your faith, they speak about your final earthbound days when your soul was healed and then, in February, peacefully ascended. I only hope that by way of these poems, others can reflect on the difficult choice you made and the beauty of it, renew their own faith, and be uplifted in life by your undying spirit.

[445]


Jay Bryan lives near Carrboro, North Carolina. He graduated from Yale University in 1971 and received his J.D. from North Carolina Central University in 1977.  He is presently an attorney/mediator specializing in family and juvenile law. Bryan is the author of Haiku for Carroll (1994) and the organizer of poetry readings for Carrboro Day. He is generally credited with originating the idea of a Carrboro poet laureate, making Carrboro the only town in North Carolina with it's own poet laureate.
The selection of poems titled "Once You See the Hawk" were originally published in Haiku for Carroll in 1994.