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I was working on a sonnet I’d written awhile ago, summer of 2008 in fact, but still not finished. I’d written a line that went, “The world is always beautiful when you look,” but recently it’s occurred to me that this just isn’t true. Not that long ago on the Internet I came across, without even wanting to, the decapitated head of a suicide bomber, a handsome man, now part of the detritus of a shattered street in Baghdad. I could not meditate on the colors of the blood or of the man’s eye that was still open. The world, sad to say, is not always beautiful, so I am going to have to change that line in the sonnet. Truth and Beauty. Where to look?
I took a walk with Akram through the South Mountain a few days after Christmas. The world around was beautiful when I looked.
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