“The Gift,” a poem by Seth Jani

Among the ancient bodies I have found
a few fresh-born leaves, trinkets the wind drops
on its journey towards luminous lands
beyond the hills. Death has safe passage
to every continent. It blends in with the locals,
is inconspicuous as summer moths.
But life too builds its populous city
wherever it desires. Right in the darkness
it constructs its blooming doors.
Through the arch, and suddenly we are in a cathedral,
the deep architecture of time and space.
Flowers ignite around us. The tender and
vulnerable heart burst into hosannas.
Suffering, with its secret connection to love,
pulls us out of ourselves and into the boundless air.

Seth Jani lives in Seattle, WA and is the founder of Seven CirclePress (www.sevencirclepress.com). Their work has appeared in The American Poetry Journal, Chiron Review, Rust+Moth and Pretty Owl Poetry, among others. Their full-length collection, Night Fable, was published by FutureCycle Press in 2018. More about them and their work can be found at www.sethjani.com.