Winter Song for One Who Suffers
The stars stand up
behind the day. A known dove balances
on its claw
at the window. A cosmic incident
of darkness has begun
& a mild excess of beauty
will be offered to the dead,
which they will eat. On a hill
the wise man serves the people,
your thought splits
in half when he speaks of the old
revolts, the return
of apocalypse, motive & advancement.
A soul can crouch
a long time while the heart
expands to reach its edges.
What is missing past the glitter
of the harvest?
Friend, you chose
to live. How? You did. So many
choices, not just two, encrypted
behind the mystery of the sun,
then the hurt was set aside,
indeterminate chaos
called in by love.
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