There are those who carry like a talisman such unshakable belief in a benevolence still at work in the world— who reassure their wives and children help is on the way, that the life savings lost in a swindle will return a hundred-, even two hundred-fold, before the year is over; that cities reduced to rubble will rise again, every wound and ruin dressed in green. A scar marks the spot the heart last tended, after another unraveling—though I don't want to keep touching it in the dark, as if to say I love what made it and made it mine. Tell me again of how I could choose to believe the weight a stone makes in my pockets; or remember the sudden change in the current, a ship that carried me along through the deadliest storm.* [ * "I Am Much Too Alone in the World, Yet Not Alone," Rainer Maria Rilke ]
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.