Donald Levering

Whisker of Faith

                 Topkapi Relic Room, Istanbul

The room resounds with the amplified
voice of a man 
seated on a corner platform
reading verses from the Koran.
Passing him, pilgrims in robes,

strong-smelling peasants,
women with bright head scarves
wearing floral dresses
throng toward the display case.
Tourists like me

in shorts and tee shirts
are swept into the flow.
One after another we tap the glass
and point to a letter
from the Prophet’s pen,

his sword, his cloak.
We murmur over the cast
of Mohammed’s footprint.
The booming voice of scripture
feeds the faithful’s fervor.

Whether or not we believe 
he was God’s messenger, 
each in turn 
crushes toward a position
where his whisker can be glimpsed.

The Weight of Idealists

I’m breathing hard, hauling stones up
from the dry river bed
to staunch erosion in my yard.
In my metal wheelbarrow the stones 
vibrate with each bump. 
Then the thumping, rattling racket 
transforms to choral swells.
It sounds like a rousing anthem,
cheering a tyrant’s overthrow 
or the freeing of slaves, but it feels 
as if I’m wheeling uphill
an entire Royal Albert concert hall.

Though freed of their places 
in the old river bed, 
my trundled rocks remain 
lodged in a romantic stratum,
ignorant of the innovations 
of Schoenberg, Cage, and Feldman. 
They know nothing of concrete blocks, 
of asphalt and aggregate pavement. 
Idealists, the rocks carry forth 
for some glorious revolution
or stirring triumph over corruption,
oblivious to history’s discouragements.

While they are singing I can imagine
it’s not their weight that fatigues me
but holding my cynical tones. After all, 
these sonorous stones have endured 
earthquakes, eruptions, and floods, 
and still they join in a hundred voice chorus
to belt out their ode to joy.
Pushing toward home with shaky legs 
and rusty voice, I start to hum along
with my wheelbarrow choir, growing louder 
and more musical, pausing every several bars 
to breathe hard, beginning to believe.

Carmel Confluence

                for Elliot Ruchowitz-Roberts, 
                Tor House guardian

He leads us in a wild alyssum breeze
through seashore grasses
along the narrow, sandy path.
A bank of California poppies nods
across from fields of finches swooping
into stands of purple lupin.
He turns around to ask,

How could you not get giddy?

And how uncanny that our trek
arrives at the river’s mouth
just as flush spring runoff
first breaks through the sand-bar
built over the winter by the sea.
Ocher hues from upriver mud
infuse the wind-fueled surf.

He hands us his binoculars
to spy a snowy egret 
elegant at the breakers’ brink,
then shares his glee at an oystercatcher’s
scarlet beak and pink feet.

But he is no mincing birder,
his vigorous stride belies his age
and childhood polio. Only later
in the day, does he reach for a hand
to ascend a steep dune.

When it comes to death,
I want to go right up to the wall.

As we rest he recites
long passages of Robinson Jeffers.
He spurs us to see beyond
that austere poet’s misanthropy
into his shyness and generosity, 
to help us understand 
the man who nursed hurt hawks.

Donald Levering’s most recent poetry book, Breaking Down Familiar, published by Main Street Rag Press, won the 2023 New Mexico Press Women Creative Verse Book Award. His previous books include Any Song Will Do (2019), Coltrane’s God (2015), and The Water Leveling with Us (2014), all from Red Mountain Press. A former NEA Fellow, Levering has won the 2018 Carve Magazine Poetry Contest, the 2017 Robinson Jeffers Tor House Prize, and the 2014 Literal Latté Poetry Award. You can find out more about him and his work by visiting his website at donaldlevering.com.