Photo credit: Shutterstock

Show of hands:
Who, this morning, 
opened their eyes 
To a light
That followed the dark?

Peacemakers and warlords
Prisoners and wardens
Weavers and watchers
Tempters and thieves
And me.

I am a bit of them all.

I no longer pretend to understand 
What life means.
Great mystery,
Vapid void,
Cosmic accident,
Touched by God:
Whatever explanation I settle on
Is just a story.
And anyway,
The birds are singing a song
I’ve never heard before.

In my slice of earth,
I walk a colorful city 
Perched on a cliff
Under a reflective sky.
I watch the surfers,
And the seals they emulate,
And laugh out loud
At the peopleness of it.
At the audacity 
To shake our fists and say,
“We’ll see about that!”
When we find toes where we used to have fins. 

I marvel
At how we hold such contradictions
Without bursting.

We put men to death
Because it’s wrong to kill.
We fight wars
To spread peace.
We tell stories
To find silence.

And we succumb to love
Even though we know
The price is always grief.

And all the while, 
(Delicious ache)
The waves break
The seal swims
The sun lights 
And the birds
sing songs
We’ve never heard before.