Poetry

by Jennifer Reeser

FROM LACK OF LOVE, I WILL NOT EVER DIE . . .

From lack of love, I will not ever die,

so may the stingy, cold, and lordly rage

imprisoned with pride inside his gilded cage,

conversing with a pretty, blonde, white lie.

And let them lift their glasses, raise a toast

to wish the whole world ill in ancient Greek,

forever finding fault. And let them boast

like Belshazzar who feasted, while the meek,

thin, ragged Daniel fed on yeast-free bread,

while understanding what the king could not,

interpreting what royals had forgot,

seeing the privileged ones were good as dead –

that Love which made this vast, black Universe

his cure for any demagogue’s blank curse.
 

– This poem appears in the July 31 print issue of National Review.

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