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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


so


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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