~
Jara sang undaunted,
Fet-Mats, turned to stone, dug deep,
—as if a silent prayer in Latin,
—as if the sacredness of wedding vows,
—demonstrative
as a water lily.
There's a perpetually simple elegance
to what water fallen words
kept in a tinderbox stir,
—bless the soft spoken
and the loud cry.
—bless the dead poet
and the buried miner.
—bless the nouns and verbs
of a crescent bride
about to receive her husband
inside of her.
~
