Poem: "Broken Basket" Or: "A Song of Praise"

On my walk around the neighborhood

I came across a broken basket

Lying abandoned on the side of the sidewalk

Two-toned, earth-colored, woven wicker

A once sturdy body with still firm handles 

Now a tear on one side, askew

Flattened and downtrodden by rain and mud

No longer a basket shape

No longer able to hold anything  --

Other than my despair

Which came up suddenly

On seeing this discard.

A sinking in my belly

Linked this single item in an instant

To all the ills of the world --

Throw away culture

Nothing dear

Broken containers that can no longer hold us

Crushing inequality

The weight of no hope

I felt my body become the basket

Could feel my back fold over

Curl up, crush down

Not aligned, upper body lying at a strange angle

Abandoned as useless

To be stepped upon in bad weather.

But I kept walking

Turned the corner

The birds were singing 

With great passion and fury

Declaring their gratitude for this life

As it is.

And someone had planted

Some bright cabbage flowers

(I should know their name)

White green purple -- vivid, enthusiastic

Right by the side of the road, near the mailbox 

As a greeting.

I took note of my feet as they touched the ground

The earth’s magnetic force pulling me close

Each step a dadum -- 

Lift the foot and then feel the tug back to earth

The earth rising up to meet me 

And my open basket and unnamed flowers

In a single embrace.  

Here at last

Is a container spacious and gracious and unending enough

To hold my despair 

Without collapse.  

I, too, am a bird with a song of praise to sing.