Wednesday, December 14, 2011

The Magic of Loss

When something is lost

It’s important to see

What remains

This is a story about discovery

The bowl is more than empty

It's a chasm

And yet the swirling colors of memory

Are perfumed with a poet's music

No, let me explain

With scalpel in hand

The surgeon cut away

The pained and frightened queen

The young prince was left

To rearrange the pieces

In the tower of contemplation

He called the princess

out of her dark closet

To put on her gown and

Teach him how to climb trees

Together they are conjurers

Of magic swans and bees

They travel out to far off galaxies

And heal myriad spirits

Walk in dark places

Where wondrous beings perform

No one could have told me this before

That hidden behind every tragedy

Is a gift.