POETRY

The Next World

a poem… about the path our generation must walk

Grief lies dormant in the chambers of our heart’s delight and it’s scary to feel its murmurs without hearing what it says. Its sighs disturb the unnoticed beating, like sinkholes appearing out of nowhere throughout the lands.

What does my generation, or any since, know of what is natural? The world order changed before we came into it — and even so, a strange emptiness exists where we reminisce of full felt embrace. Instead, caution: the wildness of place only whimpers or retaliates.

We do not yet have language to speak of what’s been lost. Not until we relearn to discover the paths into a new kind of being found — like charting constellations from the light of stars already burned out. . .

~

2020