Lessons: a Poem

Lessons: a Poem


If I stand before the oldest tree
And ask for it to comfort me
When those before it fell to dirt:
Age is how much time you’ve hurt

If I stand before eternity
Those gone before might come to me
Were I to ask what to believe:
The more you love, the more you grieve

I listen to the symphony
The phrases chill then rapture me
Between the notes, the colors rise:
Love is not made with the eyes

If I always wait for Time to heal
I cede what sorrow claims to steal
I choose to mend, despite the weight:
My choice is love; I choose my fate!

(C) Raina Maris (Thelen), 2017


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