a wrench into sorrow
I just found tears welling out of me
as I came around the corner
and felt, again, the wrench into sorrow,
the calluses on my heart drop off,
the blinders on my eyes disappear, for a bit,
and I see the chasm beneath us all,
I see the moment when the easy rightness of the present
falls off, as if it were always illusion,
this morning the baby birds in the wren nest by the back door
were fine and just waiting for mom to give them breakfast,
30 minutes later, I came back,
the nest no longer on the cabinet,
now on the brick floor of the porch,
a squirrel must have found them,
eaten them with gusto,
made his future by denying them theirs,
sorrow is often the default position of the universe,
coming around a corner and finding sorrow
should not be a shock,
but it is.
by Henry H. Walker
June 1, ‘26
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