A prose poem of serendipitous discovery

Photo by Gavin Allanwood on Unsplash

The neglected cemetery half-hidden by tall grass, discovered
on an aimless walk along a country road that dead-ends at wood’s edge.

Discovered like a basketed foundling deposited on a door stoop,
prompting an overall reckoning with everything you thought you knew.

Headstones tilt at half-mast, wearied by unending rest,
ground…

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A writer risks losing friends and, dare I say, admirers, when she tiptoes into political speech. I’m taking that risk here because I’m committed to honesty in what I choose to express on this platform. As my recent work suggests, I do not live or work in a vacuum; I cannot help but be affected by the state of the nation I live in and was born into. I cannot write “pretty” when I don’t feel that way. Writers are expected to offer hope; that’s part of the aesthetic bargain. And sometimes I do. But not always. And isn’t that just like life? Up, down, sideways — we respond to whatever comes our way.

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Amy L. Bernstein

Amy L. Bernstein

I write stories that let you feel and make you think. Fiction, essays, poems. Whatever the moment — or zeitgeist — requires. More at https://amywrites.live.