A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
The noise of my life is still sleeping,
and the self beneath myself enters the room.
I say, I hope I’ve not abandoned you,
my better brother. He says, no — I’m here
all the time to invite you back home.
Here is a mind without fear and a heart
that opens like a night blooming cereus.
The war is over, and your brokenness
is a door you are invited to pass through
into a love uncontained and everywhere.
The woman has beckoned you to enter.
A rivulet that finds its way to the river.
Copyright 2019 Doug Anderson