Cassandra Voices

Tag: Haley Hodges

  • Poetry: Haley Hodges

    Kyrie 

    Rotten fruit, rotten root. Hands up
    Don’t shoot. Kyrie eleison.
    By the waters of Columbine, of
    Blacksburg, of Newtown, by the
    Waters of Parkland and Uvalde,
    There I sat down beneath my desk
    (Don’t shoot) to weep.
    Christe eleison. My soul to take.
    Kyrie eleison. My soul to keep.

    Gloria 

    There is no
    No utterable Gloria
    In excelsis Deo—there is
    Only the unutterable.
    There is He, qui tollis
    Peccata mundi, but also
    He that brings them, and
    Brings them so
    Unutterably.

    Credo  

    “Of all things visible and invisible
    The rifle is king. I believe
    In one gun, in One Gun Almighty.
    How fast can you run?” Thus
    Spake Death, and these, even
    These are the conditions in which
    Expecto resurrectionem mortuorum.

    Sanctus 

    Sanctus Sanctus Sanctus
    Dominus Deus Sabaoth!
    And precious in His sight the
    Little children He bid come.
    Stop of the mouths of your
    War machines this hour—
    Strike them dumb. Let
    Heaven and earth be full
    Of their silence, lest every
    Hosanna perish in violence.

    Agnus Dei

    Agnus Dei, who takes away
    The sin of the world, what
    Can it profit the Most High
    If you take our sin but leave us
    To die? Miserere nobis. Lord
    Of the cellar, (hide!) Lord
    Of the attic, let it be mercy
    Falling semi-automatic.

    Dona

    Dona nobis pacem.
    Lead us beside quiet
    Waters, no more to bury
    Our sons and our daughters.
    Peace. Grant us ceasefire.
    Grant us peace.

    Feature Image: A memorial set up outside Robb Elementary school for the victims of the shooting in Uvalde, Texas, US.

  • Poetry – Haley Hodges

    Make of me, too, a microcosm

    Make of me, too, a microcosm—
    Merger, marry, manifest
    As the bridegroom, as the stone-melted
    Heart. Move but do not remove me, for monsters
    Maraud in madness here, and we meet
    Mettle to mettle about the place. But you—
    Magnificent as mystery, as morning, you
    Are mooring the ship of me, mastering the maze
    Of my malaise to run like marrow through bronze
    Bones, an unmappable river overlapping the
    Mayhem. You mumble or hum of Spring-things,
    May-things made for me, mighty and bright
    As midnight meteor, final as eucatastrophe
    Mounting in stillness. You dip Ursa Major
    Into the pail with a wink milky as motherhood:
    Come meadow, come minnow, come maple
    And mink, come drink, (you say) come marvel!
    Our blue marble maiden—mess though she may be—
    Her majesty is mineral-deep! Minstrels sing it and mages
    Know it. Myriad music still marks her mind, her memory,
    Music of mending and meaning, naming and being—
    Music of mackerel meandering, matter and mass,
    Metaphysical music marching from moment to minute
    To minute and back in a palindrome line, meticulous
    And light as a match, hatchling fresh. You say much more,
    All unmeasurable, and to the unending moment of you I say:
    Make of me, too, a magic.