Hungry Pilgrim by P.C. Scheponik

I am like one of David’s hungry, breaking into the Temple granary

to eat my fill, or one of the twelve come down from the hill into the

sabbath fields, sapping off the fleshy grains that yield their bounty

to my waiting mouth. I am a gleaner going about my Father’s business,

foraging about for the left-over cob, the one not taken and eaten by

the Spiritus Mundi mob. I am husking toward myself, stripping away

the sheaves of borrowed being, peeling the cornsilk hairs of consciousness

off the firm sun kernels filled with light and sugar truth that will burst

at first bite, the juices flowing like living waters from Moses stones,

the songs of sons and daughters rising into my own refrain, a hymn

of being, terra firma made in the image and likeness of life.

P.C. Scheponik is a lifelong poet who lives by the sea with his wife, Shirley, and their shizon, Bella. His writing celebrates nature, the human condition, and the metaphysical mysteries of life. He has published six collections of poems. His work has also appeared in numerous literary journals. He is a 2019 Pushcart Prize nominee.