The world as loss

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

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