Belong to ‘hap’

belong-to-hap

 

a carried corpse

a life-long load

the woe of the muddled mind

half filled with slag

no light, no hope

 

Ah, banish that

Corners can be turned

The moon, elastic orb of lunar swellings

can cast milky light on doubts

We can emerge from grime

Swim out into the juice of hope

 

The ineluctable tremor

of passion

can overwhelm the bleak

and lengthening shadow of despair

The slap and tickle of mirth

revivifying contained, stale air

 

Exhume the hope

from wet leaves smudged beneath

your walking feet

All around the air and scenery frets

for us

to entertain the view.