Poetry by Michael Simon

Desire

Desire

Perhaps a bird does not conclude
it will fly or it will fall; it flies, falls.

Open to loneliness, what darkness
can I enter alone? Resistant
to loneliness, am I not moved
to seek the light of support, of the known?

Open to learning, who am I
to see or say for another?
Resistant to learning, am I not moved
to teach others, to praise method’s stasis?

Clearly we are not birds, though we
fly, fall. Clearly we know where we’re headed.

One thought on “Poetry by Michael Simon”

  1. “Perhaps a bird does not conclude
    it will fly or it will fall; it flies, falls.”

    That’s instructive, all by itself. 🙂

    Lovely poem, Michael!

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