Sunday, May 19, 2013


Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

Perhaps they are here to teach us humility,
And that is what so many people
find disturbing about their six legs

And hard casing, and the way they crawl
and fly – Sometimes under the yellowy porch lights
at night. Sometimes in the thick garden. What they read
with antennae, I know, our world-lonely bodies
could never know. This I grasp at as an ache.

They need not adorn themselves. I suspect
the thought of doing so would never cross their
little minds. Why bother? They are the living jewels
sculpted by the very same jeweler we deny,
that we will not give ourselves over to.

We can’t count them. We can’t name them.  Not all of them.
And in this is evidence of our lack of desire for
true intimacy with the living.

We wish to remain strangers from the multitudes.

You cannot convince me otherwise; everywhere you can see
how the backs are turned.

What is this great fear of finding out who we
are through relationship with another?

I think that I must admit this:

I have a love for the stars that course the heavens,
And at least an equal love for the beetles of this earthly plane.

If I can do but one thing and one thing only with
the time I have remaining,

it is to bow my head

and open my heart

to this –

an inordinate fondness for life.

© 2013/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Wild Life: New and Selected Poems" (to be published by Hiraeth Press in June 2013;

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