Amidst tragedy, loss of trust,
troubling talk of hateful revenge,
and fear, we look around.
What is there that makes sense?
Is it the street, cracked, pitted, rutted,
hot from summer sun?
Is it the buildings of faltering wood, crumbling brick,
or of gleaming steel and glass
rising stiffly, aloofly into the air?
Is it the parks, with littered grounds,
broken backboards, and rusting swings?
Or, the simple shade of green leaved trees?
The transparent sparkle of drinkable water
spilling into moss smelling cemented fountains?
It is certainly not the frightened faces,
furtively peering from curtained windows,
hesitant within protective entrances.
No, no, none of that makes sense.
None of it is welcoming and comforting.
It all presents as one prickly distasteful
spirit draining come-on after another,
every human clawing, sucking after sustenance,
every soul a victim, every soul a predator.
Where is mercy, charity, brotherhood, belonging?
It is nowhere, nowhere to be seen.
As a people, as a family, as a community,
we are shattered,
an interdependent, seething, blossoming,
cohesive whole no more.
Seems to me, there was a time, and a place.
It was when I was young.
The air was warm and moist from recent rain.
Trees were heavy with green.
Crop rows rippled midway into maturity.
Wide rolling fields shone thickly edged
with wavering grasses and wildflowers.
Within hay scented pink evening air
insects buzzed, birds fluttered,
and a soaring airplane
traced magical aerobatics.
There was no fear, no worry,
no defensive or predatory intent.
There was only work to do,
and we did it.
Sun come set, we were exhausted,
satisfied that we’d done good.
It was time to rest, lay tools aside,
laugh with friends,
and hug a lover.
Soon sleep would descend,
and dreams, lilting dreams,
sweet comforting dreams.
Oh that time.
Oh that place.
Where is it now?
I wish I knew,
I just don’t know.
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Saturday, July 13th, 2013
Beaver Dam
WI
USA
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