Falling, in integrated, tough sadness,
a great swath of time slows, tears well.
I look about at human desolation and
hear hammered dulcimer, Mary smiling,
plinging small hammers as beauty rises,
in an empty-faced, oblivious crowd,
sounds of sweetest joy beyond time.
Children's faces rapt, attending adults standing,
passing, not hearing, missing high wonder.
Another wave of great, deep sadness passes
while Mary plays on, working its dispel.
Falling hammers & time stretched
will work together, hoping . . .
--(sometime after) 12/28/08 [found & reworked 7/10/09]