First, a note: Tricia tagged me with this poem. It moved me deeply as I read it. I thought it very well done. Then I began to recognize the language. I checked: it was my own poem, written and forgotten. What a wonderful surprise! It is difficult to be objective about one’s own work and self-doubt comes at times like a tsunami. How wonderful when a poem comes to life. Thank you, Tricia.
perhaps it is wise
we have put away God.
Those first lands
are they not now deserts?
And the new lands
are they not ruled by greedy men?
Perhaps it is wise
we have turned our backs
and walk away inured
to the cries and wailing.
Who are we to shed useless tears
when the black slick inundates
the manicured lawns
when the water ignites
beneath the kitchen tap?
Let us scoff together
at those fumbling scriptures
written by many in many lands
whose inadequate words slip like fingers
on the glazed edifice
of dreams now deemed
Let us not shudder to consider
every fruit dropped into darkness
from the splendid tree of Evolution
will require the miracles to renew
we no longer underwrite.
What is a tear beyond salt and sorrow?
The skies are clear in springtime now,
no longer darkened by clouds
of Passenger Pigeons.
whose fatal flaw was to wing
to the call of distress.
Can we be far behind?
Perhaps it is best we put away God
in every language, in every land,
even in translations that leave no room,
to a divine being.
Perhaps it is best to put away Hope
who takes her sweet time to appear
and what good if she is not pregnant
We’ve had our fill of promises;
not a bite.
Turn up the empty lights
and the music of hysteria
where there is no room for silence
Rivers are stolen.
The sandy bellies of great seas
are naked to the powerful
Take those words like righteousness
tag them with disdain
scourge them with easy cynicism.
What room in our language now
for what is lofty
beyond this concrete plane?
We have no time to imagine experiences
each unique as a single soul.
With each fallen fruit and tree
more sand blows across our imagination;
like the parting of true lovers
the long longing songs
of coyotes and whales
grows more distant
as we embrace the rumble
of gasoline and war.
27 May, 2013