he walked a lonely concrete stair
surrounded by barbed wire;
the things he thought he knew were gone,
and joy had gotten shyer

he felt despair, and anger, and
a soreness in one knee,
when, breathless, at the top, he found
a dancer by the sea

the music, and her moves, bespoke
the truth behind the veil,
of joy and sadness, love and hope,
that beauty can avail —

her movements were the ocean, in
totality – and parts –
salvation there in abstract form,
a rescue by the arts —

and when at last he did descend,
a new life had found birth:
and consolation’s many forms
had given his life worth

for there is ugliness, it’s true,
but reasons, yet, to be:
in music, and in stories, and
in dancers by
the sea