This is not who we are,
this is not who we are;
before it all falls apart,
hear us: kia kaha.
While the thoughts of the distant
surely do little now,
know that this little
waits to do more, anyhow.
The edge of the world
is reddened tonight,
but here the sun rises early
bringing more than her light.
With her come tomorrows,
with her comes the way
to dispel darkest shadows
from darkest days.
This is not who we are,
this is not who we are.
We will not fall apart;
hear us: kia kaha.
I’d tear it down stone by stone.
I’d scar the heavens so even angels understood.
I’d desecrate the emblem of the alone.
And in the rubble find the loss of what could…
© Blake Leitch February 16, 2019
Under a splintered mast,
Torn from ship and cast
Near her hull,
A stumbling shepherd found
Embedded in the ground,
A seagull
Of lapis lazuli,
A scarab of the sea,
With wings spread—
Curling its coral feet,
Parting its beak to greet
Men long dead.
By Marianne Moore
Not so deep as he had hoped,
but deeper than he thought,
and further than the lusting gaze
of foreign lovers sought.
Every poet has his deaths
(herein the po’try lies),
and at the end of a glazed mind
can meaning yet arise.
© Blake Leitch February 13, 2019
It’s hard to write
from here.
And it’s hard to read
from here. (more…)
By Marianne Moore (more…)
blakeleitchpoetry.com 