We Call for Divinity to Heal Muteness

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

The voiceless butterfly is voiceless.  Flowers

Speak voiceless, too.  If both of these have dreams,

No voices come from them.  The wings have powers,

The petals, too, but like sad dried up streams

They have quite limited expression, less

Than whispers in the rings of Saturn, Braille

Where fingers cannot touch, an ivory chess

Set lacking queen and bishop, knight to fail

In hopping over squares and pieces.  Voice

In beauties, lacking, makes them piquant things

So beauty has to bring us to rejoice

In perfect ways like petals, poignant wings.

  Awake from dreams, you beauties, if you can.

    Increase the voice of loveliness for man.

May 1, 2026