by Abraham de la Torre
If there is certainty in being humble
it must keep. As weeping willows weep.
Silence, like a lamb before or during
slaughter, never after, has a deeper
honesty than speech, whether written or
reluctantly portrayed that it may reach
a hoped-for heart, nay, prayed-for counterpart
of peace. The tendency to share a gift
may not be treated with the equal grace
to thinking if it were fortuitous
had courtesies been drawn from mutual space.
Aye, the proper avenue is open
and the crossing is a careful doing
to be commonly agreed. Lest the fact
lie undernourished, futile, impotent.
The hunter, having solitude at best,
sometimes forgets, preoccupied with thoughts
of filling voids where there are none, remiss
that hope translated into second-guessing
missed. The better void to fill is deed.
There is an ethical parameter
inherent in the mind; when accidents
refuse to take a backseat to the will,
however good, although ostensible,
the only way to go is ethical.
No argument is necessary, none
of sworn-to statements will avail
except a simple sorry, even if unseen.
