Poetry by Patrick Moran

there are trees
there will be a river
don’t pretend to know their names

there will be a farmhouse
a light for a traveler
it’s not for you

wait to be seen
it will be better this way
they will have time to choose

time to examine their conscience
recall the kindnesses
the cruelties

it’s the story of mouth and eyes
it’s the story of bodies
gathered and bound

speak of hope
speak of better times
then leave as if you knew

where it was you were going

one mind is the mind of tenderness
the other cruelty

one mind is the mind of action
the other stillness

between two worlds
between two loves
the ill-tempered man moves
a pilgrim of sorrows

these are the eyes
of the ill-tempered man

may you never come to know
his fury

one for the law one for the crime
one for the jail house doin time

one for the chicken one for the pot
one for the water boiling hot

one for the fork one for the knife
one for the man who beats his wife

there are thieves about

this is true

believe or disbelieve the others
they have time to fade
time to lose their meaning
time to change
into something else

this is always true

think of everything
you can steal
then know this
there is always more
there is always someone
who will deprive you
as you have deprived them

the smoke of memory
is the smell of loss

something tells you
to watch the birds for a sign
something else tells you
there is much to fear

the road has not changed
the trees have not moved
there is only the birds’ message
the faint music of sorrow

something tells you
it is a message about yourself
something else tells you
you are one of them