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Hope
It hovers in dark corners
before the lights are turned on,
it shakes
sleep from its eyes
and drops from mushroom gills,
it explodes in the
starry heads
of dandelions turned sages,
it sticks to the wings of green
angels
that sail from the tops of maples.
It sprouts in each
occluded eye
of the many-eyed potato,
it lives in each earthworm
segment
surviving cruelty,
it is the motion that runs the tail of a
dog,
it is the mouth that inflates the lungs
of the child that has just
been born.
It hovers in dark corners
before the lights are turned on,
it shakes
sleep from its eyes
and drops from mushroom gills,
it explodes in the
starry heads
of dandelions turned sages,
it sticks to the wings of green
angels
that sail from the tops of maples.
It sprouts in each
occluded eye
of the many-eyed potato,
it lives in each earthworm
segment
surviving cruelty,
it is the motion that runs the tail of a
dog,
it is the mouth that inflates the lungs
of the child that has just
been born.
It is the singular
gift
we cannot destroy in ourselves,
the argument that refutes
death,
the genius that invents the future,
all we know of
God.
It is the serum which makes us swear
not to betray one
another;
it is in this poem, trying to speak.
gift
we cannot destroy in ourselves,
the argument that refutes
death,
the genius that invents the future,
all we know of
God.
It is the serum which makes us swear
not to betray one
another;
it is in this poem, trying to speak.
~ Lisel Mueller
~
(Alive Together: New and
Selected Poems)
Selected Poems)