Outside of Misery

Did all the songbirds hold their tongues

and where hid that enormous sun?

Grief’s strange that makes us blind and deaf;

distant as in deep realms of death

but now my heart feels un-exhumed;

Sunlight’s hand lifts it from a tomb.

Even the silence seems to sing

and breath's become a sweeter thing.

Come back, you wasted, grief-filled hours;

let me fill you with songs and flowers.

Oh what bright wonders men may see

outside the walls of misery.