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Poetry Serves all of Life

poetry serves all of life

from shadowed realms where stones seek refuge in fern and dusk

to the nightingale trilling a lonely song

from star emanating a distant farewell

to rising sun dispelling desperate hours

from newborn hope and sweet scent

to longtime friend whose affection has withstood the test of time

from love gone wrong

to love gone right

from ports in the storm, now eroded and damaged

to the sanctuary each new day can bring

poetry serves it all

no corner, no dark teeming space,

no aqua lit-up sky fragrant with filigreed cloud

nor underground pool of stalactite wonder

no emotional tumult

nor deepest calm and steadiness

nor cruelest of criticisms

nor greatest of compassion

neither the height of human aspiration

nor the despair of faithless moments

can hide from poetry's gaze

for, you see

the heart needs to speak

of nuance and beauty

of shadow and light

of the flying bird and

the scampering frog

of the etched, sacred human face

and of divinity made evident in the seasons

in time Herself

in it all


let your poet-self speak

call forth the dewdrop hidden in the weeds

the fearless ant lumbering with giant leaf

the sacredness that twinkles in each space and time

in each space and time

in each space and time

let your poet-self speak

Annie Kiyonaga, 2015

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