Sliver of Kindness

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Sliver of Kindness

Sonnet — An Invocation to the Master #281

To how many concessions shall I offer thanks,
The ill that comes comely and masked,
A little sweetness that its malice masks
And gently unveils its hatred concealed.

Or the storms that tear the fluttering sail,
Leaving the mast merely battered 
For another dawn and sail that must unfurl 
And the mast must stand until its end.

The woe that walks beside, and anguish too,
All casting shadows that to us is equal.
Oh a boon it is to be met by such a retinue,
To be matched to fate just enough infernal.

To that sliver of kindness in Thee we bow,
O Thou author of our every shadow.