To see beyond self

In the past, I have driven the stretch of highway 
To the road by the river
On my way to work
Each day past an abandoned church.
The broken windows reveal an altar rail.
In a vision I see where people pray
I see them bend with mouths
Inches from the floor
As their tears fall upon the dust.

Three years later,
I park the car
And walk around -
The door is open.
I find a woman with a phone to her ear.
A passerby like me - could ask to see inside.
I ask this woman, a sculptor who bought the place
To be the "photographer" who has no name.
I find Elvis at the back door
The frozen faced statue looks to the river.
I pass and climb up the worn wooden stairs
And find cloudy dim light
Run down church walls
Tiles long gone and broken off the walls
Pews and altar pushed aside -
Inside me?
The light invades and lays bare
Invades me?
I fix the image with my camera.

The eyes to see

Light through a pin hole makes
Simple 
The capture of things.
Light burns into the paper
Bent and curled in an oatmeal can
To see more than me
More of me.

I make images -
Discover the world -
Light follows it 
I chase the light
To find why I love the brightness
Kept out
Let in
Sought
Found
Escaping and 
Piercing through.

I'm looking inside
The church
The garage
The forest
The shadows
The rooms I live in
The rooms in me.
I begin to see.

A Paradox

I carry my pinhole -
It is my instrument 
On which I improvise.
Run outside
Rest the pinhole on the ground
Run to the wall and count to 30
Move and count to 30
Pick up the oatmeal can and run
Quickly inside 
Up the stairs 
To the bathroom.
I stuff towels around the door -
The red light I see
Cannot be seen by photo paper.
For a moment, I see more than the pinhole.
In the developer, count to 60
In the stop, load the camera,
In the fix and out the door.

To See the Full View of the
Little and the Great

I'm looking in -
From behind the tree
The light in the garage reveals cobwebs, 
And dust on planks of wood and window sills,
A spider or ten.
The soft laid light 
In the midst of shadow 
Upon a tree trunk -
Seeps through the blinds inside of me.
I bend boards and hide in the corner -
I blend in the background
Hide in the shadow
Look in and peer in
By the stairs
At the door
On the wall
I see the light
Through her eye to me
Between the altar on the stair
On the path
At my feet
I try to find the inside life - 
Where light invades.

And Prophecy

Off the wall, in my hands, I run outside
I place a mirror on the ground 
To face out upon the world.
May it prophesy
May it prophesy 
The present shadow - what will come
	The present light - what will come.

Shall I prophesy?
Light, come and look in
Flood in and escape in here
Into me so I may see.

Yes, risk, speak and ask…

Transformation

I ride the stretch of highway
To the north of the city
To a small church - 
Closed, so I walk around back
And find a path to where
The tree branches form the arch of windows
Around an altar made of stone
And pews made of earth
And the heavens, a ceiling.
I bend, mouth almost to the earth
Breathe - I smell the earth -
Wood and grass.
I pray that I may know 
For now, I begin to see the light
Flooding everywhere on everything.

About the Author . . .
	Missy Kyrlach is an artist who paints with light in photographs, with words in poetry, fiction and song and, of course, with good old fashioned paint on canvas. Her artwork has appeared in shows at Miami University and The University of Cincinnati Raymond Walters College. Her poetry won 2nd place in the annual staff/faculty poetry contest at RWC 2006 and will appear in the Blue Ash Review. Missy is married to a creative and imaginative computer geek and spends most of her time day dreaming--oh, and working in student affairs.

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