The Life You Have

 

This may not be the day you planned,

may not even be the life you wanted--

but this is the one you have. So wrap

your hands around the warm mug of it,

inhaling the honeyed steam of tea. Pull

the wool sweater of it closer, and relish

whatever protects you against every gust

of cold rushing in. Savor the buttered

toast and creamy sweet potato soup

of it, kissed with a hint of cinnamon

and curry. Switch on the bright floodlight

of your life and watch flurries drift down

in the yard, like a handful of confetti

tossed out over the ragged snowbanks.

--James Crews

Hope

 

It hovers in dark corners
before the lights are turned on,
     it shakes sleep from its eyes
     and drops from mushroom gills,
          it explodes in the starry heads
          of dandelions turned sages,
               it sticks to the wings of green angels
               that sail from the tops of maples.

It sprouts in each occluded eye
of the many-eyed potato,
     it lives in each earthworm segment
     surviving cruelty,
          it is the motion that runs
          from the eyes to the tail of a dog,
               it is the mouth that inflates the lungs
               of the child that has just been born.

It is the singular gift
we cannot destroy in ourselves,
the argument that refutes death,
the genius that invents the future,
all we know of God.

It is the serum which makes us swear
not to betray one another;
it is in this poem, trying to speak.

--Lisel Mueller

[Our grandchildren give us hope.]