After a several-year dry spell I have at last had the itch to write poetry again! I mostly credit the amount of time I have on my hands here in Rwanda: I have a daily ritual of stretching out in my front yard and reading and writing poetry while the sun sets.My house seems made for beauty and creativity. I wrote this one a while ago, trying to capture some of the deep love and grief that I have for Rwanda. Thought I would share it, sense I have not posted in a while!
Measure of the Soul
Dizzy in the darkness
secondhand horror.
I try your mask
a borrowed ache you
believe it.
This choir of death:
My love my blindness to
believe in you again.
I cannot forgive
life – white and dry and twisted.
And now I know
there is no limit
we do not break – even for mercy
built for pain and evil
a frankenstein creation.
And now I know
my skin is monstrous
and the shadows in my heart are bottomless.
And now I know
no God
but one that is broken.
And now I know
the bitterness of life
bitter: the beauty of it
the sweetness
bitter
the knowledge
the monster
bitter
that I cannot stop loving.
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