The first lines of this poem emerged in response to an ugly family situation. The poem sat unfinished for months. Then I began to read the book Left To Tell, by Immaculee Ilibagiza, a survivor of the Rwandan holocaust in 1991. Soon after, terrorists attacked in Paris. I finished reading that amazing book, which describes love and forgiveness in the midst of horror and hate, just before the mass shooting in San Bernadino, California. And we’re all aware that in addition to the violent acts that grab news headlines, there are ongoing struggles in this country and in the world at large fueled by racial, social, gender-based and religious bigotry. This poem is my response to hate on all levels…
Lesser Things
There are lesser things
than love, my friend,
and we have tried them all:
retaliation,
righteousness,
striving to recall
every misalignment in
the history of time.
We carry
bricks of sadness
for a world of our design.
The feathers of a goldfinch,
are as gifted
as a hawk’s —
in daily plight and purpose,
beauty won’t be lost.
Who’s to say
which of these
is wholly the more blessed,
for each deserves
a liberal flight and each one
craves its nest.
A single act
can bridge a gap or magnify
a fault.
There are lesser things
than love, my friend,
and we have tried them all.
Chapter 3 