Half Time Talk

comments 13
Christ / Poetry

However you
came to this point,
however you made contact
with your inner geometry,
whatever brought you
to the point of
placing all your stock
into who you are,
into that infinitesimal
droplet of radiance
lurking in your chest
of which you’ve but caught
fleeting glimpses,
not yet even knowing
what they might be,
it doesn’t really matter.
You’re here.
Let’s leave it at that.

However you
came to this point,
all we can really say
is that it was a gift.
This must be true,
because no other type of way exists.
Whatever you saw,
whatever webs
of shame and violence
you spun, whatever
narratives of hatred
and contempt
you wrote,
whatever whiskey
of loathing and
you drank-
these matter not.
They were merely vapors
rising from the dung
you were once convinced was bread.

No one remembers
how they crossed
the night river
from not knowing
to Knowing, or
what boat they rowed,
or Who piloted it.
No one remembers
what door they knocked upon,
what backstage wandering
in which they lost themselves,
what costumes they donned
in an effort to look the part,
or Who found them,
lovingly weaving their disguises
into a story about something True.
We only know that once
we staggered through
the desert, and then
one morning at dawn
we found bread.
On a plate.
With a Love note.
That kind of
is the truest
form of amnesia.

Now that you’re here,
by the way,
we can begin…
Like this…

(This poem is an excerpt from a half-time talk
given by Hafiz to
a drove of traveling merchants,
and their camels,
whom he chanced upon playing
ultimate frisbee in the desert.
Though the second half was played
with astonishing vigor,
there is no one to this day
who can recall
it ever happening.)


    • I know it… I just watched US pull one out against Ghana, but here is what crossed my mind, and I wish I had consulted you first, Brad. I was thinking if I just wrote football, some would be thinking NFL and some would be thinking Premier League. So, I went for ultimate. But if I could have figured out how to get that tilde over the ‘u’, I would have been all set! 🙂



  1. TRUEST FORM OF AMNESIA! In that little Egg song you can just about hear a little comment about the not sitting on the sideline of living 🙂 .

    I adore the little love notes you leave with the feasts over flowing of living bread you share here. -x.M


    • Thanks, Maren! The music on the little Egg song reminds me a little of the band Sigur Rós from Iceland, one of my favorite long-drive accompaniments. (Explain this one: how in the HELL does this universe work that I am forced to bust out the accented “ó” character right here on this page, after all of the previous discussion of same???) Love it! 🙂



        • Very nice! Thanks for the link, and beautiful images. I have never been to that part of the world but it looks heavenly. And that Tycho track definitely has the open road feel. How can you go wrong with a band named after an astronomer??? (Or do I have the wrong sort of Tycho?)



        • Okay, so, it has been a few years since I bought a Sigur Rós album, so I checked on-line to see what you might find, and I found a crazy video with neon green smoke, and I thought, that wasn’t quite what I remembered of these guys.

          I found this link to a song that translates to “Lost at Sea”, which seems quite apropos, and this is more of what I recall…



  2. Always on point, always relevant. This welled me up, Michael ❤ Thank you for sharing your gift! Stay blessed.


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