By Melissa A. Chappell
Something Right and Lovely
In the mornings I grind my own coffee,
which comes to me from ridges stranger still.
I watch the panes of light break on the wooden floor.
Shadows of you linger and pass through me,
your face fluid in Richard’s lion-hearted kindness and
the terrible courage of the tree swallow.
Like flowing water, the questions
shall not allow an escape,
but they penetrate every hesitation,
every “no,” every passive voice.
Am I guilty?
Yes. Yes. I am guilty on many counts.
I did not do well enough.
Yet I will say this.
Our loving was honest
and good
and pure.
In the mornings I grind my own coffee.
I listen to the news, the news that is
stranger still,
and I know that
though I am
alone, I will do better.
Yet I know that together,
after so many white lilies
have fallen from the stem,
we did
something right
and lovely
in this world,
and for this,
perhaps a wayward blessing
may sail to you upon
some following breeze.
And justice and passion shall lie in the unharrowed field,
at rest upon the breast of the Lord.
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Melissa A. Chappell is a native of South Carolina living on land passed down through her family for over 120 years. She is greatly inspired by the land and music. She plays several instruments, among them an 8 course Renaissance lute. She shares her life with her family and two miniature schnauzers. She recently published Dreams in Isolation: The World in Shadow: Poems of Reconciliation and Hope with Alien Buddha Press.
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