Never Destitute Poem by Kurt Philip Behm

In the darkest final hours,
I began to write

And my words once spoken new
from scattered ashes light the sky

To begin and end each day
caught up in beauty's distant wake

All loneliness filled by pages lined
with happiness and joy

My fate betrothed, once mistress
scorned
—a lover more than wife

Whose vision so much sharper,
her dissection cuts through bone

To slay the muted dragon's fire
in present tense delight

Beyond all past and future clouds
above the darkening storm

To mate each breath and gifted word
that heaven sends unwed

Never destitute in blessings shown
—or in things I wish I'd said

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February,2016)