It means to flourish. The ancient unread
Forgotten texts say this is our purpose.
The word echoes across time bankrupted
By the lies our eyes show us. The circus
And breads and gleaming bits sold for pleasure
Will bring no relief to an aching heart
Until one rests and roots into treasure
That was ours by right of birth. “That’s a start,”
You may say. “But life is also brutal
And pain we did not know we could bear
Will blast away easy answers. It’s futile
To think humans can flourish when despair
Finds us.” But, I ask, “What’s our duty
In the face of both evil and beauty?”
by Allegra Jordan, 2018.
Reconciliation poetry 