Poetry |

“The Heart of Humanity” & “The Perils of Not Dreaming”

The Heart of Humanity

 

 

Tea leaves unfold in hot water.    Picture an ordered universe of tea

leaves from Mount Kanchenjunga above Darjeeling.  Afternoon

turns cold when the fires blow out, and I sense all is not human.

 

Lips curled back don’t necessarily mean happiness            for those

with knowledge of faces.                  Gilded fairytale platters of heads

grinning More, and in a hurry!               Few know what they have

 

from what’s missing.

No problem with life until desire roots in, and afterwards

to sit still.   and alone.                                      but not lonely. 

  

Is it the right warm hand in yours regardless of longevity swelling.

Unborn babies have no birthdays.   No parties with numbers.

They sense the translucent flutter of gills forming.

 

Have they more then than later?                             Birth is the crossroads

to the tactile.     A giving away.                                      Unimagined

time’s clearly free as water once was.                     Moments of clarity.

 

The longshot at becoming fully human.                    Remarkable whimsy.

Might adding the letter e to the sixth word in the line above resonate

enough to crack open the heart of humanity?  Stretch it.    Make it give.

 

An e on the tail-end of how we two-leggeds like to think of ourselves. Always.

Work you’ll not forget isn’t easy.  Allow this to shake you.     Keep vibrating.

Muscle memory of the missing.

 

Why are the unwaveringly humane harder to find

than those in stasis on a boulder

with eyes    unblinking?

 

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

 

The Perils of Not Dreaming

 

Inconsequential, you think, a child with a dream

of two owls? Pretend there’s a great deal of meaning

for a bright handful of beings.

                          This could be a level of clarity

worth considering — a makeshift fog dreams are swirled in.

Puzzles to carry back at dawn.

Moonlit phantoms

do not arrive with orders to vanish at sunrise.  They hang

after-hours. Silver bait in liquid starlit.

 

                                                            Oh, my soul

the child sings for the sound of it.

                                    Relaxed between beaks she

is flying!               Silken hammock she nests in.

 

Think about it — could new experience be more than the brain’s

rote repeating by the minute? The decades       which is the true threat

of consensus.

Dreamily removed are you from the maybe-not-so state of morning?

It takes a sudden gust of courage to be at one with another.         Remember

your most current disguise?                               Night’s a final wad of wonder

quivering under our animal skin.

Contributor
Katherine Soniat

Katherine Soniat‘s most recent poetry collection is Polishing the Glass Storm: A Sequence (LSU, 2022).

Posted in Poetry

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