Despite the Fact
That flesh staggers down
Stone steps
Into the cellar of the grave.
That hearts are hammered flat
As foil on the horn
Of the world-anvil.
That children watching
The shuttle carrying
Their teacher into space
Watched it go to pieces...
Now you expect
The poem to say what
Is still true despite
All this — something
About grace or beauty
Or love or all
Of the above
And what a miracle it is
That the world still turns
Despite these facts
Even if only because
It knows no better,
Like a dog licking his
Dead owner’s blood.
But there is no
Counterweight to sorrow.
How could there be
When joy is so light?
And yet
(There it is, you think)
The ranchers who
Found the debris
Found themselves
Looking at the sky
In a way they hadn’t since
They were children.
2 Comments
1 more comment...No posts
Hey Austin, this is such a haunting poem and I found myself returning to it a few times; I actually linked to your poem in my most recent poem titled ‘dawn’ and I wanted to let you know! I hope this piece receives a wider audience. ‘But there is no counterweight to sorrow’ is going to stay with me for a long time!