August 1914 by Isaac Rosenberg

 

“What in our lives is burnt
In the fire of this?
The heart’s dear granary?
The much we shall miss?

 

Three lives hath one life—
Iron, honey, gold.
The gold, the honey gone—
Left is the hard and cold.

 

Iron are our lives
Molten right through our youth.
A burnt space through ripe fields,
A fair mouth’s broken tooth.”
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taste

The body was felled,

the tree of life broken at last,

the fruit we tasted his bitter last supper.

as always, redeemed

again, returned

to this blank desert of horrors

to prove that there was a Promised Land

somewhere. Our forty years has not ended.

so we are pulled in two,

reeled in by the death, the inner evil

just to whet our lips with glorious water

that is blood, from the slain Rock

we drown in his death/we savor his life.

Inner Strength

          

If you can start the day without caffeine or pep pills, 
If you can be cheerful, ignoring aches and pains, 
If you can resist complaining and boring people with your troubles, 
If you can eat the same food everyday and be grateful for it, 
If you can understand when loved ones are too busy to give you time,

If you can overlook when people take things out on you when, 
           through no fault of yours, something goes wrong, 
If you can take criticism and blame without resentment, 
If you can face the world without lies and deceit, 
If you can conquer tension without medical help, 
If you can relax without liquor, 
If you can sleep without the aid of drugs, 
If you can do all these things, 

Then you are probably the family dog.