The Death of Hopelessness
I knew that into peace I stepped
Up some remarkable bright stair, raised
Through sands where microscopic meditations had sighed.
Yet also there, floating spirits sang,
Too slow in thought or life to be changed.
Then, as I asked them, one fell down, and looked up
With regal knowing in glistening eyes,
Settling soft hands as if to pray.
And by her eyes, I know that golden dome,
By her loud smile, I know we lay in Heaven.
With endless joy that angel’s face was carved;
And all the cannons roared.
“Sweet friend,” I whispered, “here is our place of joy.”
“Always,” said the sweet one, “here the blissful days.
The hope. Whatever hopelessness was yours,
Was your death also;
But now honor the slow stopping of the minute.”
……December 1998
