DETOUR

It seems to be done,

                                    the world is not enough with us.

True, the rivers rise to meet us in late spring, the trees,

Conifers mostly, give us their incandescent fingerbones,

And the grasses whelp and propagate,

But it’s not enough,

                                   somehow it’s never enough to please us.

And so we turn to the other side.

But what an absence—Jordan’s a hard road to travel.

The love that we detoured into,

                                                        the love that was promised us,

Soon forgotten, Lord, soon forgotten.

Give us our muddy roads, give us our unrequited, forsaken nights,

Give us our barren landscapes,

Give us our desperation,

                                            give us back our disbelief.