Sonnet for Reji
The world is a noisy dangerous place
racked with hunger, hatred, and despair;
rent by lies of religion, homeland, and race,
it often weighs too heavily to bear.
We want to do the right thing but we don’t
know what it is. Where is the answer to our prayer?
We listen; we wait; we suffer; and still it won’t
come lift us from the muck to radiant air.
You grab your brush— your sacred sword and shield —
you battle the demons devouring the light;
you summon visions angelic that lie sealed
in the blind tumultuous bosom of deepest night:
You make art, you cast your spell, you dance, you give
us beauty, hope, joy, a reason to live.