Puzzle Of The First World - Noaa Rienecker

There is deep sorrow
in this world.
There are
irreparable gashes,
impossibly unfair,
unspeakable things.

I have seen survivors
of the deepest lacerations
emerge intact
cauterizing their wounds
with the blue-hot purity of spite
or love.

I have seen souls
dragged by their hair
through the hell-worlds
somehow struggle to their feet,
charred and bleeding,
to climb up into the sun.

In the filthiest ghettos
blighted by tyranny from within
and neglect from without,
one can hear music,
and be pierced through the heart
by a cataract wink
and a yellow grin.

But still,
here,
nestled deep
in corridors of
labyrinthian beige,
swaddled in Egyptian cotton,

Here,
somehow,
still
lives
misery.