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| Path in the Woods by Aitoff (Pixabay) |
We can't help ourselves.
We go forward, hoping
that bit of light will lift
this massive sense of foreboding,
the walls closing,
too many loud noises, too much clatter,
virtual and otherwise, lists and maps
show where and when and who,
too much death, too much crime,
even dropping a knife on the kitchen floor
is an omen. 'Nevermore,' the raven calls,
a murder of crows gathers on the front lawn,
unexpectedly, a bear lifts his head to sniff
before crossing a city street.
We all wait and watch, perched by our windows.
Spring rain falls, and we hope for some sweet glimpse
of tomorrow, maybe the past deconstructed,
reconstructed anew, and when
we least expect a glimpse of hope,
someone begins to sing.
Jonny West, last night on American Idol, simply sang, "What a Wonderful World." This morning's prompt from Robert Lee Brewer for National Poetry Month asked writers to write a poem about something massive. I kept thinking of Jonny West and his simple, direct affirmation. Let it be.
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