The Good

 

The good are vulnerable

As any bird in flight,

They do not think of safety,

Are blind to possible extinction

And when most vulnerable

Are most themselves.

The good are real as the sun,

Are best perceived through clouds

Of casual corruption

That cannot kill the luminous sufficiency

That shines on city, sea and wilderness,

Fastidiously revealing

One man to another,

Who yet will not accept

Responsibilities of light.

The good incline to praise,

To have the knack of seeing that

The best is not destroyed

Although forever threatened.

The good go naked in all weathers,

And by their nakedness rebuke

The small protective sanities

That hide men from themselves.

The good are difficult to see

Though open, rare, destructible;

Always, they retain a kind of youth,

The vulnerable grace

Of any bird in flight,

Content to be itself,

Accomplished master and potential victim,

Accepting what the earth or sky intends.

I think that I know one or two

Among my friends.

 

Brendan Kennelly ~ The Good

 

Done