Chard deNiord: Last Goodbye in the Time of Corona
The darkness arrived without your voice
or touch, my love, and yet I heard
your voice and felt your hand in mine.
Jackie Robb: The Virus and the Bulb
The beginnings of a dark cloud of worry about the virus moved in to share space with the more festive anticipation of amaryllis blooms.
What did you bring to the world?
You don’t have many days to stay, traveler.
Danusha Laméris: The Cat
After my brother died, his wife was sure he was living
inside their cat, Rocky. He’s in there, she’d say, staring into
those blank, yellow eyes. Isma’il? Isma’il? Can you hear me?
Ellery Akers: Our Grief for the Earth is Hidden
When I was born
I thought I’d be taken from the earth
I didn’t think the earth would be taken from me
Eva-Maria Simms: Muzot in Winter
A scholar and translator makes a pilgrimage to the Swiss castle where Rainer Maria Rilke finished the Duino Elegies and received the gift of all 55 Sonnets to Orpheus.
Amiri Baraka: The Liar
What I thought was love
in me, I find a thousand instances
of fear.
Chard deNiord: The Music of Being
Hold a hazelnut up to your eyes
as a lens for seeing through,
then wake to a katydid and say its name.
Stephen Dobyns: Persephone, Etc.
Wasn’t it beneath this spot the son of Kronos
pursued his inamorata, holding out a handful
of shining seeds?
Buddha Shakyamuni: Well-Spoken
A statement endowed with five factors is well-spoken, not ill-spoken; it is blameless and not faulted by knowledgeable people. Which five?
Stacy Bannerman: In 2020 Live Your Prayer
We need spiritual warriors willing to do the hard, heartbreaking work of becoming the light; capable of walking through the valley of the death of their old life and finding their way out.
Charles Davidson: A World of Surprises
The craft of creativity is far more formidable than comprehensible. We become infinitely more dependent upon what we do not know than upon what we know.
Angele Ellis: Wonderful Life
We are halfway between Bedford and Pottersville:
the kindness of community, the chill greed of despair.
Deborah Bogen: Season of Light — and of Darkness
If you happen to meet someone for whom the season of light is a reminder of a dark time, of a sorrow or a loneliness, take a moment and sit with them, let them be that dark. Believe in their sorrow as you believe also in joy. Believe in them.
