Bitter and Sweet

These last pains have left,
and also they say they will
have to stay
again, but softly
there in between the rocks of the house
in the knots amidst our internal rivers
running always back to us.

There are vistas which stretch up like wildcats
tearing and eating at our memories
until they are happening now, along with the songs
from the radio, the twisting of the old roads made new
the moon of gold bearing down on us
glittering skies of pride
and stubbornness which has, at its crux
the makings for a history
worth understanding.

M. Lucia