Sometimes

Sometimes the way things are is so painful,
life knots, like angry, tangled hair and refuses
to be pulled free, to release in that flowing
which makes so much possible and which
can be arranged as beautifully as imagining
would ever allow, in that neat, harmonic,
settling into time where all is in order and
grace can shine, coiffed, coiled, held in
place, and secure in its own settled peace.