Poetry / Poets / Writers / Writing

Checco by Martha Landman

        —then let your heart say in awe,
        “God moves in passion.”
        — Kahlil Gibran

        XIII
        A certain brother went to Abbot Moses in Scete, and asked him for a good word.
        And the elder said to him; Go, sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.
        — Thomas Merton

Checco was a mover, not like a mover and shaker, just a busy man
In his dreams he shared a Facebook page with Jack Kerouac
who had just the profile he wanted, a little watered down, even curt

Checco was uninterested in anything that wasn’t moving, prophesies
included. Butterflies pinned against a board infuriated the rebellious
man, regardless of its purpose. To see them fixed ripped his anger.

A bookbinder by trade Checco passionately loved the written word
He took it upon himself to voice vehement unforgiveness at any
blatantly unconventional use of the word or oblivion to rule.

Beneath the surface of the man’s vigour lay a deep insecurity:
His writing, although outstanding, was often ridiculed — it made him
restless. Nervously he studied doctrine, he studied dictionaries,

he studied language: bad language, dead language, foreign language, foul
language, second language. He did not rest and moved swiftly between
lecture halls. Then one night he read Hesse’s Siddhartha and Merton’s

Wisdom of the Desert. It moved him so he cried in deep compassion.
At once Checco stopped the shuffling of chairs and papers. His
movements became quiet, contemplative, absorbing the awakening

stillness that brought forth an imagination never experienced before.
Opening up like a kite Checco’s writing soared, connected with heaven
and crescendoed in seismic waves, deeply moving the writing world.

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