The silence of your displeasure runs so deep
it is like the night sky without a single star.
Or the desolation of a dungeon keep
where a prisoner is sitting without hope in the dark.
Should not a beggar with his beggar's bowl
be given a dollop of rice? Or a poor wretch lost
in the sands a thimble of water? Is there no dole
for a homeless child? And all at such little cost?
Lovers unaddressed grow weak with ruin,
unless a soul has pity-- what the masters teach.
A simple greeting revives. What's more, a wound
may heal itself within a prayer's reach.
What's given is what comes back. Surely you've heard.
So send me in your mercy a single word.