Monday, February 12, 2024


It's true that 
some of the most 
beautiful hymns 

never find their way home; 
yes, the promised land
 exists, but it is

full of empty cans 
and ghosts.

And don't even ask 
how many good deeds 
never get off the ground, 

because there are loads
of them rotting 
in the fields as we speak,

or else packed 
in an attic, gathering dust. 

But still, you must 
try to do the 
next right thing, 

even when you fear 
the failure of your body 
to endure the cost;

even when you're 
sure it's useless;

even when you 
don't know 

what to say, it 
doesn't matter—for 

not every 
desperate blunder 
spurs us on to failure;

not every prayer 
that flounders 
is lost.