It is something
like comfort, knowing
Venus in the dawn sky
will be there
long after all this ends.

I remind myself
that I’m awake before dawn
worrying and begin to scold myself
for stretching my arm out to 
such comfort in such horrid times.

Then it comes to me that Venus
doesn’t exist for any reason at all.
I take what I want from its beacon.
I do what I must to survive.
Comfort doesn’t come from the sky,

but from me.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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