Wearing Its Weight
Michael T. Young

It’s a grave mistake how I think
so much about the end of things,
how much clings to a body, how
hard the day breaks against us
like a wave sweeping us off our feet
and tumbling us in its surf. But here
at the edge of it all we hold hands,
gulls search for whatever scraps
are tossed into view, our children
play in the sand, play in the waves,
never thinking how much their
joy is mixed with risk—even as they
see dolphins arc through it in the
distance, or surfers glide over it,
a surface glittering with sun, a dazzle
that hides below it a deep that is darker
and more dense than any sleep.

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Michael T. Young’s Comments

It seems pretty evident that the universe has more darkness than light in it. We are surrounded by a near infinity of threats to life and beauty and truth. But that shouldn’t be where our attention settles. It should, instead, be focused on the beauty there is, the life and joy there is. As the marvelous poet Jack Gilbert put it, “To make injustice the only/measure of our attention is to praise the Devil.”

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