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A Poet's Eyes

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Didn't Ulysses, eyes tired,
weary of wonders, weep
with absolute joy
upon seeing his Ithaca,
beautiful and green?

We have those eyes...
seeking...no...needing,
an endless, verdant
eternity, all dawns
and sunsets, humble
and immortal

But the eyes within,
white-tipped canes
negotiating the way
through the outrage of
our lives, provide instead 
our truth, our humanity, 
the poetry in our
daily living

When we see what
is laid on the fine paper
there, we weep with
wonder at our Ithaca, our
experiences weedy,
green and alive,
our gift to eternity's rolls
past the death of our eyes, 
our bleached bones,
our ashes

--Jo VonBargen 2011


"Beautifully written!" Time capsule for the future. FROM THIS FAR TIME (The Human Saga) Fierce, taut poetry! http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005KJLCLC


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