Blessing

What shall you do
Dear ones
When the good
you long to do
becomes infuriatingly
abstract?

Will your hope
crystalize, like a still-life
following a winter storm,
and only thaw
once it transforms to
nostalgia?

Will your righteous anger
turn to self-righteous rage,
working itself counterclockwise
and counterproductively
into your gut?

For you
I wish the good rainstorms
to come soon

I wish
the good fights
to come your way

I wish
the good world changing words
to come from you.

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