The Shrine At Taos

The D. H. Lawrence Memorial Shrine

Dedicated To F. R. Taylor

 

Viewed from a distance,

It appears to be a gatehouse

Flanked by trees

Supporting heaven.

Reverently,

I climb the gravel path

To Frieda’s grave,

Then enter the portal

Beyond it.

 

His ashes are interred

Within a white-washed cell.

Exhibited on the wall,

A coroner’s affidavit.

Anchored to the floor,

A bird of plaster

Stands in for an angel,

Who has long since

Departed for home.

 

Disappointed,

On verge of leaving,

I discover a disciple’s poem.

Emblematic

As a crutch, or other stay

No longer needed,

It proves

There are some who leave

Changed.

 

Despite its poverty,

His shrine will be esteemed.

It is haunted

By the glimmer from a halo,

This light surrounding Taos,

Which defines the hues of Truth.

I intuit

A greatness that has been,

That could be again.

 

Come Creator Spirit.

 

1990’s


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