By Jay Rubinstein | Published | No Comments
This year, a landscape
Strange, quaked and scarified
The softer, greener, ground we thought we knew
Seems stripped away
As if by detonation.
Were those cliffs always there
Knife-edged against the sky?
None of us are whole, unscarred
None of us fear-free
We are wounded but our wounds are strength
Together we can step in broken beauty
And carry hope into this jagged space.