You get to hold Lisa twitching through dream, you
Get to hold what she can’t remember—no matter
How many fly-bitten acolytes, borne
To ancient teachings sequestered in sorrow,
Try to cure disillusionment with greater
Disillusionment. The courageous murderer
May burn his way into the future
Nightmares of survivors, but you’re allowed to leave
The gifts given in rage, the yellowed pities,
Beside the charred walls of just causes;
You’re allowed to forget true and false still exist
And that life isn’t simpler then but labors differently.
Fear may be the oldest part of us, lonely
With the dogma claiming now is Monday, 3:14 a.m.,
But you—you’re also possessed of as much peace
As the generations in an inch of limestone,
And might be a little thankful not to see
A pieta in each kindness, and to think no question
Beauty stays though every beauty fades. Stay awake
A while longer, then, to her hip against your hand;
Hear the obscure summary in her next breath—
Only a god suffers with understanding,
And you’re spared that trouble now. Be still.