Something Worth Knowing
Big moon and
constellation candelabra
but you're at
street level,
hounded by murky
shadow.
The old man died
yesterday.
Your mother thinks she's
Japanese.
Ah, if only
twinkling faraway Leo
was really a lion.
The sky is clear
but you live in a
fully-infected earth,
a crushing need to
stick to family
even when there's
so little there.
The knowledge is
above
and it eludes you.
The facts, at your
level,
are far too bland
and, even at that,
they cannot hold,
must whimper out,
in heart failure or
brain rot.
You want to learn
something
of the universe
before you die.
It seems so vast
and magical and mystical,
and not tied down
by human experience.
The Kuiper Belt,
the Oort Cloud,
H-R Diagram, the
Pillars of Creation -
you long to step
outside
of all you are
and somehow fully
understand.
But the plainness
of a father's funeral
follows you
everywhere.
Your priest argued
for heaven
and that may not be
enough.
John Grey
John Grey is an Australian poet,
US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, South Carolina Review,
Gargoyle and Big Muddy Review with work upcoming in Louisiana Review, Cape Rock
and Spoon River Poetry Review.
Tags:
Poetry