Even So Poem by Alla Bozarth

July air ripples with the pungent smell of sour grass—
even so, the precious scent of sweet grass in springtime
happened, and happens again when one remembers
through the power of mind...

Fires and weather heat lay creatures low—
even so, streams of living water flow and new streams
will be born again and are always flowing
in hope and memory...

There is poverty, desperation, despair—
even so, not always, for still seasons change,
there are great white herons to bless your eyes
and your dreams, egrets break through the shell,
crowned sparrows and whooping cranes outride
clouds and sun while the robin sings...

There is hunger— even so, the sun still rises and sets
for now in living color to feed the soul, and the day
will come for fruit and grain, the world will turn
and honey crisp apples will dropp from the tree,
marionberries will fall into our hands and
the land will thrive again...

A chronically ill person may live in a house of pain—
even so, there is a door that opens to a world of freshness
and beauty, of lovely music and art, of grace and kindness,
and it all exists in the next room, which is itself
a house of gratitude...

Though foul weathers come, though the body is wracked,
though one has lost too much of oneself, even so...
what remains to the soul can be glimmers of light,
awareness of kindness, the power of flight,
a path to the heart's secret mountain or ocean
where God speaks to the soul...

And even so, there can be moments of respite, surprising
discoveries, growing wonderment and wisdom, for though
there are limitations of illness and age, there is experience,
there is learning, there is revelation, and with these come
compassion and freedom from blame and shame,
and through all adversity and even torment, there can be
a secret link within to the memory of heaven—
and that remains, even so...