After Stanley Kunitz

Ambition grieved, history stagnated, it was a ruinous time.
My heart became a stone, a stuttering rock in my chest.
There are bones that cannot now be appeased.
My breast is haunted by a growl that unravels my voice.

Blood gone proud is a black temptation,
in politics, science and faith.
It is time for the end of lies,
time for light in the darkness of the self.

The moment can change.
A dark image can take a fairer form.
“Our sins are stubborn,” but Time
swings it’s burning hands through this tattered universe
and the light shines as if through a prism.