Poetry Is My Protest Poem #8

Reconstruct the geography of our heartlands
left desolate in the wake of a wolf-bane hunger

To recognize beauty in transfigured shapes of orchards and the artist's brush
Attentive to the subtleties of each morning's astonished hush. 
We are led beyond words, beyond silence
to find no distinction between dancer and the dance.

Yearning for beauty as we yearn for home.
We know there is no difference between them

For cathedrals and the canals of Venice
Need no reason or explanation.
Beauty is its own evidence for truth.

It is here
Where skylines belong to contemplatives
And not to consumers, leaving trails of breadcrumbs, litter and stone,
Our lives culminate in lyrical intricacies of knowing we are beloved.