Jared Carter

Pharaoh

Your heart is weighed, and balances
          exactly with
This feather. Your soul advances,
          begins to lift,

To enter on the voyage. Things
          made from pure gold
Proclaim your presence. Lesser kings
          have not the hold

You have on time. Its flow is yours,
          and by your will,
That stream, save for the plash of oars,
          entirely still.


Horizon

It holds as far as one can see;
          no matter where
It ends, it does not cease to be,
          but lasts. What's there,

Beyond, is what one cannot know
          but must believe—
An ice-bound stream, the fallen snow
          beneath the trees

Along the ridge. Out of that night,
          the wind will craft
The far horizon, and the light
          hold morning fast.

Jared Carter’s most recent book of poems, The Land Itself, is from Monongahela Books in West Virginia.  He lives in Indiana.