White Blossoms


White blossoms slip into the eddying current
of the swift river where I go lip my settling
prayer in the early morning.

Removed from the city-weary who look
for a path from the sparkling public halls,
from the concrete hearts of angry power.

Go any place to fill the ache for joy.
I scurry from the rotting sanctuaries
widely observed for their spirited collapse.

Oh, leaders promise war-made prosperity.
A great fight builds into their talking.
Quieting the inner chatter is my battle.

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