A bluebell has flowered on my parents’ grave
cradled by a caressing sun
and guarded by squirrels
Now I know that you are still alive
I can rest easy:
even the naked torsos and shiny beer cans
of oblivious passers-by
no longer provoke dead anger in me
and the apparent absence of God
does not deceive me
Hidden beneath these shadowy rows of tottering tombstones
is pure gold
the essence of something unseen
in ordinary air
righteousness dancing
in the warmth of a friendly universe,
vital signs,
raw and unmistakeable
ready to break out
and expose the facade,
destroy the conspiracy,
make everything clear