Yes, where there’s a monster, a mob will form. Some will throw stones. Others will cheer the monster on. This will be accompanied by systems of outraged justice and law, hypocrisy, and war. And yet through it all, there will be those who love. They will not be part of the mob. They will not steal. They will not kill. They will not be indignant or righteous or loud. And those who survive will bathe the wounds of the fallen and the confused. They will have children, and work, and sing, and write poems. And then someday, war will not come.
After the War
In the ruins
beneath
the sun
beside
the column
across
the step
an ant
making
its way
home
Poems, Slightly Used, October 16, 2009
Categories: Poems, Slightly Used
