Seeing Again

When did our eyes stop seeing,
no longer convinced of natural forms?

When did tears stop flowing,
never again to be touched by the world?

When did fireflies lose their power to charm
or Night exchange it's noble dark for fear?

Was it a long, long time ago
or is it very near?

No art is worth the loss.
No logic the cost to clarity.

A century recedes, another breathes,
the old ways no longer explain.

The war made worse the decline
well worn across those tested tearless eyes.

Was at last one more heartache
one too many?

Or did we go blind with want?
The parade of their return,
or a loathsome knock on midnight's door.

Did you lose your darling love?
Did she slip back into a silent loveless sea?

The tragedy is not failing at love,
but failing to love enough.
Like stingy bankers in a counting house of fools,
we measure love, as though so precious,
we could extinguish its store.

Is it surprising then, that poems turn to prose,
our skin flint affairs find us longing
no dazzling sirens of this earth
again to seduce our desire.

Whatever wound or disenchantment
forced this retreat of senses,
we may not know.

If loss or pain, like hands of ice
around the heart constrict you
Remember, my friend, to breathe again...
To reach before you into the mist
to learn again the limits of hands
That wings may spring forth to carry you
and lift you toward the loving face of God.