Sunday, February 7, 2016

POEM: "To All The Poets"

To All The Poets


Keep the sunrises
We are where we sit
The chair sits behind
We take the warmth with us

Beneath our feet the earth boils
The sound of drumming
The blessings of the good
Night sleeping in the yaodong.


Who ends your poem?
Only the night. Only sleep
Don’t despair! You’ll be rich
(Invisible. Maybe)

What cannot be said
Weighs heavier than the night
A mere poem is a leaf in the wind
Waiting for a storm.

© 2016 Rob Schackne

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