if they do not say your poem is beautiful
how do you know that wounded birds
do not come to the quiet pools and drink
that what you think indifferent silence is the breathing of comets
forgotten winds gathering speed and that those winds
will lift the sail of everyone that grieves
it is a flower opening in a desert, your poem
and at its heart the last known drop of dew
think this.
whenever they grieve you. whenever they are remiss
so that the golden ball falls down the fairy tale well
and seems irretrievable when
they say nothing, nothing at all.
mary angela douglas 8 july 2021
No comments:
Post a Comment