What is beauty for—
sunset searing my soul
without thought or plan?
Dawn green beauty, bee hum honey,
stone in hand so silky the long sea
worked centuries to ravish?
And what for pain—thorn
in heart for my hurt child,
dumb ache for my brother gone
thirty years, slow burn of disgrace
when I fail at what I am to do: to see
my country bruised and torn?
So, to make good things—
a song, a kind act, a friendship—
feed on beauty at every turn.
And to make truth, feed on sorrows,
gnash their salty structures,
bite the bitter rind.
~ from Singer Come From Afar (Red Hen Press, 2021)
