POEM: Torch-bearer

Torch-bearer

Late at night, reading about Ammon Hennacy —
wondering how to live a life of purpose.

It’s easy to say, “I was born at the wrong time,”
as if there isn’t work to do now.

I feel disconnected from most things,
yet hope bubbles up like a spring in my mind.

Which forge offers the best chance
of producing a sword that vanquishes melancholy?

My son reads Octavia Butler.
I’m not ready to pass the torch,
even if it burns my hand.

/ / /

8/24/24
Charlottesville VA