by Devon Balwit
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| Sheree Rumph of San Antonio prays over two of the 26 crosses erected in memory of the 26 people killed in a shooting in Sutherland Springs, Texas on Monday, Nov. 6, 2017. The shooting took place during a Sunday service at the Sutherland Springs First Baptist Church. (Jay Janner/Austin American-Statesman via AP via The Times-Picayune, November 7, 2017) |
Each day I take my little target and go out.
I cling to my petiole�call it
life�
I hope for no storm, no rending gust,
no one with a gun, a grudge, a common truck.
I cling to my petiole�call it
life�
I shield its flicker with my hand, invite in
no one with a gun, a grudge, a common truck.
I wring the last green from my short day.
I shield my flicker with my hand, inviting in
only beauty, only the heroism of the ordinary.
I wring the last green from my short day.
I close the door on threat. I turn inward.
Only beauty, only the heroism of the ordinary,
please, people�not invective, not hate�
Close the door on threat, turn inward.
Listen to the breath and find the vital.
Please, people�not invective, not hate�
the human world is so late. It�s dusk.
Listen to the breath and find the vital.
I try. Every day, I�m a beginner.
The human world is so late. It�s dusk.
Each day, I take my little target and go out,
I try. Every day, I�m a beginner.
I hope for no storm, no rending gust.
Devon Balwit is a writer/teacher from Portland, OR. Her poems have appeared in
TheNewVerse.News, Poets Reading the News, Rattle, Redbird Weekly Reads, Rise-Up Review, Rat's Ass Review, The Rising Phoenix Review, Mobius, What Rough Beast, and more.
The author thanks Bruce Cockburn for the title of this poem.