Praise

Praise

Mutilated
—these words
broken, fragmented,
endless run-ons!

Wild Fires
A     lo     ha
~~~the island shivering
in ash.

Praise, praise the 
natural world
wreaking havoc on the
learned, ignoring the signs.

The stock exchange
adds their numbers,

while DNA samples
—the only means
identifying the dead.

Plucking a chord on my guitar
—a vibration
fans the room
finding a way to an open window.

The music
finds its way to the devastation,
the destruction

—voices rise like incense.

Praise the mutilation
of the world,
dance in the funeral’s ballad.

Nothing is truly missing
—life has a way of passing on,

returning new in a mutilated world.

Would you try to sing a hymn of Praise?

Mahalo
Inspired by the Poem: Try to Praise the Mutilated World by Adam Zagajewski
Translated by Clare Cavanagh