April 30—Peace, My Beloved

Peace, my beloved, and say not a word.
Neither is needed: your absolute sense
That you are correct, nor your sudden immense
Fear I am right. There is nothing absurd
In searching for truth, though the searching be long.
All life is not easy, all argument plain — 
If this were a cipher with only one name
We’d not be debating. Don’t fear to be wrong.

Perhaps “yes” is wrong, also “no”; and all grace
Is given by someone with Light for a face.
Perhaps we’re the gods we’ve been hoping to find — 
Perhaps the gods laugh at how we are all blind.
Perhaps only mortals make such a big fuss — 
Or maybe the angels have questions like us.
I wildly swerve ‘tween defiance and grief;
I jettison every misguided belief,
And yet there’s a new one popped up to replace — 
I curse and I pray that there could be some grace
Left after both Justice and Mercy have gone.
I turn off the light and I wait for the dawn.