The Summoning

What is this narrative I keep hearing?
About the summoning of a unicorn, a
creature so perfect, pure, white;
to be deserving, you would have to be a saint.
I am tired of listening to you rave
about ideals that are untenable, about
nothing that matters greatly, let me give you a
piece of advice: do not reach for the quintessential.
Only a flattened eye beholds that kind of beauty.

 

[NaPoWriMo 2019 – day 13]

If You Do Not Commit to Loving, the Water Will Hold You Down.

If you do not commit to loving

 

To Emily Mae Stokes; to the child citizen within us all:

You must exercise your right to observe without judgement
and find in every other the source of sincerity.

Use your senses to feel the road. Use your faculties
to capture every day. Every sweet instant is followed by something other.

So, put down your false reflective screens.

You must commit to loving with such a clarity
that even the graceless are pulled out of their muddle.

 

(This poem was written as a homage and response to Emily Mae Stokes’s If you do not rebel by loving, you will find yourself painting the wrong portrait published in Nimrod Vol. 61, Nr. 2.)

Photo by Dimitar Belchev on Unsplash