Interruptions

Interruptions

Noah Bartley

Silver clouds serenade
the wind-bitten earth
with songs of somber tones.
The light of yesterday’s summer song

is now a muffle — smothered
by pilgriming pillows.
Sun-kissed skin
seems lightyears away. Heavy

are the days when gray-domed temples
shun the heavens
and bleed the earth of its blush,
sacrificing saturation.

Maybe it is good for my senses to be
disturbed;
   disgruntled;
       discontent.

Interruptions are maddening
         (what could be...)
to the
         (... more important...)
self-seeking
         (...than what I am doing?) —

Interruptions are mirages.

Maybe it is good
for my senses to be
roused
from familiarity’s slumber —

a slumber that
desensitizes;
   disillusions;
      disenchants;

and drains the world of wonder.

Interruptions are magical,
for they force you
to look outside
of yourself,

to cast your gaze,
to sit for a spell, stunned
by the weight of palpable glory as Heaven

ventures earthward,
skewing, bleeding, and blending
the line between
finite and infinite.

---

Noah Bartley
Poet

Noah Bartley is a poet living with his wife, daughter, and dog in Chattanooga, Tennessee. His work has been featured in The Walnut Branch and Vessels of Light Journal. You can read more of his work on Substack. 

Photography by Mathias Reding