No Traces

By the long rocks, where fear is;
Or the temporary ocean’s center,
Hollow as a vowel, I move aside,
That everything may enter.

The one choral voice never heard,
Without whom no singer could compose;
The ground that ground must root in
Before it prompts the rose;

Love and I alone endure;
Sing the eternal pause;
Loosen the over-strictured tongue
From busybody laws.

All persons, nations, creeds, locations
Are holy, chosen, blest;
Born of us, to us returning,
Seeking sorrow, finding rest.

© Larry Haworth April, 2016