There is a reason these old mystics
shook bellies full of laughter
their eyes sparkling
and alive
full of all they have seen:
children and flowers.
The aftermath
of war.
We are drawn to them
like forgiveness-
their presence
an oasis of joy
in the desert of lament-
the divine’s
absurd pleasure-
the ridiculous
insistence of
Breath.
No comments:
Post a Comment