What of risk is brought through a poem, what of danger? Many fear this language which reveals more truth when it appears dressed in a multitude of skins. Not lie as in bald denial of facts. Or that we could ever be rid of grieving. Only: that planets in orbit trace similar curves expressed by the face in longing. Only: that the heart of one who would do anything for cannot possibly have faith in the immobility of stones. Only: that words we exchange are another visible form of making or mending. And rending. Only: that music and prayer are more welcome than dull explosions in the dark. Only: that we are so small, so frail, so finite and in this way grow more enamored of skies studded with light. Do you see all those we loved waving from the country into which they crossed after they left this world? They have never left. Or we won't always be here. You can eat a piece of earth, though no one really knows the safest place in which to hide on this or that side of the water.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.