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by Annie Lighthart
Some evening, almost accidentally, you might yet understand that you belong, are meant to be, are sheltered--- still foolish, but looking out the door with a contented heart. This is what the king wants and the old man and woman and even the busy young if you knew, and you have it by no grace of your own, standing in the doorway with loose empty hands. Now your heart lights your mind, a little lantern bobbing within you, giving out not thought or feeling but confluence, something else. On what do you pour out this light? The wet street is empty, one wren in the yard. Let us redefine love and wreckage, time and weeds. Pour out your lantern light on the grass, on the bird, great and small worlds. Don't go inside for a long, long time. You can find this poem in Pax by Annie Lighthart.
Life of Kim 