Wednesday, June 8, 2011


There are no lessons deep enough, clear enough,
that they could hold on to or use to decipher,
or understand, or even to respond: Of what use?
Of what use are murmuring creeks that turn
blue when they flow into the river’s mouth
as it meanders to an open sea, itself a tributary
to all that is deep and dark and dangerous
in these untamed oceans, beginnings and ends
of life, the vast expanse of all our explorations.
What does it matter that the moon swings low
over pine branches, or that the urgent calls
to trek back to forgotten origins are inexorable?
You can only counsel them enough of beauty,
because this earth makes it more often an omen
of regrets, or even an augury of faithless betrayal .
When the words you lisped as they turned
somnolent in your arms come back to haunt them,
they will rush back to you and pray for strength.
When that time comes, do not mumble an apology,
because this has never been needed nor accepted.
—Albert B. Casuga
Poem Prompt: What use, what use in this hard-edged world?/…Perhaps I fashioned paltry arms,/ gave them words not strong enough to make/ what they needed most come back—From "Apology" by Luisa A. Igloria, Via Negativa, 06-06-11

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