All Poets Go To Heaven
Written for the Occasion of McKenzie Stubbert's and Tiffany Kimmel's Wedding
and with gratitude to Meg Weber
In heaven new souls meet at the feets of John Keats
and ask, “What is a poet, so we may know it
when we are born anew?”
And John responds,
“If there is a one thing that a poet is
a defining duty
to truth and beauty
and always, always, always standing on the side of love.
Beside love-
to defend it, its loftiness, its worthiness,
and don’t forget its foolishness.
A poet must choose
to be a champion of fools,
to champion the foolishness that is love.
And here Mr. Keats spoke plain and assertive.
(A thing for a poet that is quite on heard of)
He said,
“New souls,
the poet speaks on behalf of the love that unites the lover and beloved,
for the time they spent apart, in waiting.
It was the poet who carried the story from Ithaca.
The poets speaks on behalf of the love that collects witnesses to vows,
the virgins who kept their lamps at the ready were each poets.
The poet speaks for tenderness’ inevitable victory over cruelty,
for sacrifice wining out against self-love,
The poet speak of the gift of love,
and if anyone brings anything but love
let them be thrown out here.
At this,
The old embittered ash in the Grecian urn
waits for Keats to speak his turn,
so he can give a cynical critique.
He, the cynic says,
“Love has always made poets blind.
I have some question if you don’t mind?”
“What if love is a lie?”
And Keats speaks,
“Then love will find the truth.”
And the cynic says again, “What if we want only luxury and happiness?”
And the poet says, “Love will learn the joy of sacrifice.”
“But what if there is resentment and indifference?”
“Then love will learn a greater love.”
The cynic says, “What guarantee is there?”
And poet says, “Love is loves best critique.”
“And what if there is fear?”
And the poet agrees and says, “Yes, yes there is fear and yet love prevails.”
And the cynic says, “What hard work love is?”
And the poet says, “No Shit! But love is not afraid of this in the slightest.”
“But what if sickness comes, what if there is only death waiting?”
And the poet says, “A life of love is a good thing no matter it’s length.
But there is no sickness now,
it is not a time to speak of that parting,
it is not been given to the lovers to comprehend this,
for this is the moment of love.”
And the cynical ash curses and says, “What if God does not care, what if God looks away?”
And the poet says,
“How could this be- for God is love!”
The ash fell silent,
the new souls too,
as the poet John Keats whispered a warning.
It was not the warning of those Heartbroken
who say love is a lie
or that love fades.
It is a warning that love is precious.
Love is of limited quantity.
Each one of you new souls might experience genuine love only a handful of time in your life,
only a handful of times
if you are lucky
It is worth giving everything for this love, giving everything
and holding on to nothing else.
And the ash in the urn was struck by the truth of this
and was silent and pensive.
And in the morning of the next day, to everyone’s surprise but John Keats,
it was gone and in it’s place
was a new soul.
