Even waking up to more pain,
to the limits of my empathy,
another day in a world made for people
like me, even in this sour dawn,
thumbing through headlines
dissolving at each day’s breaking,
even now, the whistles reach my ear,
harbingers of a layer of light underneath.
firework out silently,
quiet fire taking a knee,
white and purple flowers,
bowing in reverence.
I try to keep up
with the news, try to stop
and smell the flowers, nuzzle
the back of my baby’s neck, meaningless
love pulsating in every small action.
Call up the light, even the potential of light.
How can anyone hold on
while the flowers unfurl so fast?
How can anyone remember
that birds begin their songs in the dark?