The Universe Has Rhythms
P Patti Masterman
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The universe has rhythms
To rock itself to sleep;
Praying Jews at nightfall,
In front of stony walls;
A slow-circling hawk
By a fortress deep,
And a dozing child
Where a woman weeps.
The universe has secrets
It touch with guilty hands;
Buried unmarked grave,
Of one who was not saved;
A war to break at morning,
When death will have his day,
Words of peace on dying lips
They can never say.
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