If yellow betokens infidelity,
I am an infidel.
I could not bear a yellow rose ill will
Because books said that yellow boded ill,
White promised well;
However, your particular possession-
The sense of privacy
In what you did-deflects from your estate
Offending eyes, and will not tolerate
Effrontery.
By Marianne Moore (more…)
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.
blakeleitchpoetry.com 