Keep On Singing
A poet’s job is to say the unsayable. I’ve been opening tiny windows all my life ~ looking for light, letting air into fetid places, crawling out in the night to explore the underworld. Somehow the soul takes it all in stride ~ death, abandonment, destruction. She goes on, and finds a way to keep on singing. Surely she weeps, but she doesn’t lose her tenderness. She doesn’t become bitter and resentful.
Hate is so much disappointed love, it can’t keep hoping. It just gives up, nails all the windows shut and sits alone in the darkness, dismal and disillusioned.
Out of the silence creeps the truth, hiding in the illusions, waiting to be free. Open the windows. Let the sympathetic sun soften your cynicism and turn your skeptical misgivings into an early morning poem ~ a song, a prayer, a painting, an omelette ~ any offering of praise.
LBM 5/27/2021
