What The Poem Cannot Do

The poem cannot strike the blow
but it can draw the sword.

It may speed the hand to seize the hilt.
It may make the case for war, but
it will not shed the blood that will lubricate
the wheels as they escape the rails.

The poem will not set the fire
but it may light the match.

It may stand with the rioter in the dark.
It may be silhouetted in the sudden light.
It will not toss the bottle at the gates
but it will sing with the timbers as they cry and pop.

The poem will never pull a trigger
but it might cock a hammer or chamber a round.

It will stop and stare into the eyes of the killers.
it will stalk backwards as it draws them on, but
it cannot do what only you can do.
It can only hand you the weapon and ask:

is this not, at last, the time?