Sal, I – Poem by John Francis Tracey

Sal, I. 

 

It is of a just character,

to not burden oneself, nor others 

with pungent anger. 

 

Of such a thing, 

one must not allow it

to be seeded; 

a rampant rake. 

 

Do not busy oneself – 

treat the soil 

as the figs foretold the Romans. 

 

Now to concern ourselves 

for a moment, with 

dread,

despair, 

solemnity; 

 

I have not yet found such a potent mineral. 

 

John Francis Tracey

 

John Francis Tracey