Too Rich and Rare

How boldly it enfolds, entraps to hear the raptures

of the anguish and the pity and bewilderment

and sorrow in the tales we heard from them today.

It’s hard to disregard their eyes. We must be taken

by them into that odd dark disguise from which

they entertain no prospect of release. Somewhere

in them, somehow, must lie an avenue to peace.

But we can’t lead them there. They wouldn’t

have it. Their sadness is too rich and rare.








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