History

P1000756

the broken songs of our race

jab sharp spears against

the overburdened heart of history

(our ends of course justify the means)

we have always

made the choice not to survive

without casting stones at sinners.

so we blame blind eyed destiny for

subtly seeping scarlett letters

into the bared bone melody

of earth’s humming voice,

+ etching permanent bullet holes

in our skinbound human harmony.

we savagely reap + sew

 endless staccato scars,

plunging our necrotic needles into

 the keeper of all life

as she begs + pleads for us

to learn, remember,

or at least sing freely.

lately it seems as if

only the sullen strains of discord

sound in our depths.

the delicately fluting grace

of love’s unstrung notes

fading,

dimmed.

instead, a chorus of fear ripples through

our increasingly distant lyrics.

have we lost our place

in the song of the universe?

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