Truth is truth wherever it is found,
In light-struck windowed hands of opal glass,
In pebbles left in homage on a grave,
In fingers shelling mounds of lady peas,
In radiance that roosts inside the soul,
In paint, in words, in whirling steps, in steel,
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In “rings of fire” as infant heads are crowned,
In my, in your last breath the day we pass,
In clerestory beams that pierce a nave,
In water-gilding’s gold, in mystic keys,
In fire’s vermilion in the glory hole,
In fish that gasp at air inside a creel.
In harrowed earth, in streams, in adze and wood
A beauty lives: ignored, misunderstood.
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—Marly Youmans
Image by Carl Gudarian via Creative Commons. Image cropped.
