Classic Poem

Sorrow moves in wide waves,
it passes, lets us be.
It uses us, we use it,
it's blind while we see.

Consciousness is illimitable,
too good to forsake
tho what we feel be misery
and we know will break.

Old Mother turns blue and from us,
" Don't let my head drop to the earth.
I'm blind and deaf. " Death from the heart,
a thimble in her purse.

" It's a long day since last night.
Give me space. I need
floors. Wash the floors, Lorine!
Wash clothes! Weed! "