Morgan Michaels


Anniversary 2 - Poem by Morgan Michaels

Understanding comes in waves and whether waves come
too breathlessly fast or dawdle conscionably
out of the future or the past,
it doesn't matter, everything adding up and cancelling out.
From the golden fields of youth and Need
through the inexplicable let-downs of passing time,
evolve differently, often,
than the ways we expect them to.
Purity is all.

Mother, beauty
worthy to be sculpted by Pisano,
you thought you had a hotline to God;
in fact, you did,
via the cable of infinite trust.
Many imagine righteousness a bulwark against evil.
It isn't always. Still others say you get what you deserve.

Deserve? Ditch that awful habit
of saying what others deserve:
desert the moity of a harsher ethic
incomprehensible to the catholic mind.
In the end, who doesn't deserve salvation?
Faust, stepped out of glibness, held his tongue.
Nobody knows anything-you're a fool if you say you do.
There's remedy and reason for each transgression.
Mother, you did not deserve this.


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Poem Submitted: Sunday, August 19, 2012

Poem Edited: Sunday, August 19, 2012


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