To reach beyond the loss; hark, sun, the droop of my mourn as ash counts wedded beats and reveals an acorn beast. Hark, sun, the wringed azure, as you plunge the red across my morn, and as you read the acid lawn, explain.
This was written as one possible response to Muriel Rukeyser’s Song.
The world is full of loss; bring, wind, my love, my home is where we make our meeting-place, and love whatever I shall touch and read within that face. Lift, wind, my exile from my eyes; peace to look, life to listen and confess, freedom to find to find to find that nakedness. Muriel Rukeyser