Glint

By Cathy Cohen
black woman standing by flowering tree looking into sunlit sky contemplatively

Beneath a sky of stars
in this time of great answering
I will sing
    my own brief poem.

If the bowl of the sky is a lens
on the infinite eye
all images pass through
I will seek
    mercy
among trees, branches, beings
all deserving care.

Because aren’t we all
swirling dust, flashing shards
from a broken vessel of hope
too vast be contained?

I will seek
    the glint in you,
some magnificent bit of shimmer
as we meet and warm ourselves
in presence.
     
I will ask
              what care can I bring
              to my own brief glinting?

Poem