And
so it is that certain tragedies
Seem to float in the sky
At arbitrary
points in our field of vision:
The
smoking shells of buildings, colorless
Streams
of gas hissing from overturned tractor-trailers,
Rail
cars crinkled amidst clumps of oak and pine––
Our
own small horrors trail off them like tow ropes,
Wind-whipped
cords braided from pink slips,
Falls
from trees, a split lip beneath the jungle gym,
This
or that parent embalmed and sleeping...
In the great spaces between each
lies cancer, idolatry
And
the instinct for joy that struggles to float free
From
the mind and the eyes that fail to see;
Such
tragedies are crumbs left on the trail
And
the crows, the crows are everywhere...
I
stand and watch mankind spread out
Along the platform, watch
Them
board their trains, uncertain, afraid
Of
becoming part of an unwanted history; oh, empires
Rise
and fall, kingdoms cleave asunder and coalesce,
And
still the mankind gathers together
Like
rainwater pooling on a ledge. How I love
Your
persistence, when there is so much to despise,
So
much to withhold, such a constant
Baring of teeth; how remarkable
That
we have not devoured ourselves completely...
And
so, on a day when a far off speck
Grew immense and black in the sky,
On
a day when our magistrate slunk fearfully
From
trench to trench, a day that saw an island smoke,
When
the dead in their numbers crowd the turnstiles
And
the next world shudders from the weight of them
And
the shudder is felt here, in our teeth, we turn
To
one another and with a glance, apologize
For
every wrong we have done, and all those
We'd
imagined done to us. What we’ve found, this day,
Is
something that makes us human,
And
it leers at us from the blind heart of the forest,
And
it waits with the patience of a seed,
And
it thrives on tears as well as rainwater.