Thinking of Spinoza on a Spring Day

Dear God, I can’t help you—not anymore
And blind as I am, at present I’m listening
To a lonesome goldfinch

Who has mistaken the next kingdom
For this one (I think you know)
And the world is about time ticking down

And an old woman I know shares her books
And some of us love each other
And I can’t help you— not anymore

We won’t be broken

Author: stevekuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by stevekuusisto