[Poetry] ‘Tradition’ — S.T. Brant

Eden taught god Power blossoms.
We have no lesson to extract—we knew the Will exact:
Life, ungovernable.
Oblivion became the birds that fly the lake between us,
Life and us.
All edicts that could teach us evoke the Void, our greener days.
What to us is past, to god is not:
All that makes us sad, pained, enjoined to fresh days, makes god,
A continuous moment, wrath.

Every garden graveyards in a season. Take Eden.

Orpheus peeked in and from an
Abundance that matched his song
Wilted, telling the flowers how,
Into the first petals fallen.

That wither’s turned tradition.


S.T. Brant is a teacher from Las Vegas whose is publised or forthcoming in Door is a Jar, Santa Clara Review, Rain Taxi, New South, Green Mountains Review, Another Chicago Magazine, La Piccioletta Barca, 8 Poems, and others.

You can find them on Twitter @terriblebinth or Instagram @shanelemagne.

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