In mid-journey
inevitably comes
a point

where we
are already tired
beyond rational
explanation
and are
asked to do more,
to plunge into
the possibility
of being
swept away.

In mid-journey
we invariably come
to a river
that flows
between us
and the future,

stand
on the bank
amazed
at
how deep
this water is
and how cold,

recall that many
have attempted
a crossing,

that many have
made it, many
have fallen in,
many of the fallen
remained afloat,
and many
have drowned.

We hesitate.  We
think it over
and we wade in
somewhat comforted
by others
and the number of stories
that have come back to us
from those
who made it across.

In mid-journey
we wade in
and some make it
and some drown
and some are swept away
to places from which
we have no stories
so their deaths or survival
mean nothing to us —
at least
nothing
to us mid-journey,

but once on the other side
and firmly back
in the forward trudge
we recall in wonder
the ones
who disappeared —

how they cried out,
at first afraid
that they would join
the ones
already drowned,
then
simply thrilled
to be aimed thus at
the unknown.

without fanfare
or introduction
people were at my door
who led me out and
placed me tenderly
upon the ground

and then 
with similarly
ritual care
clubbed me and
shocked me
while screaming tasteful
epithets

was then elevated
raised by hard hands
manacled and
placed
into a car’s
backseat
taken away
to their castle
and
upon arrival was
laid in a concrete room
bedded upon stone
my head coddled by guards
until 
I slipped peacefully 
away

all the while
dreaming
that my rights
and privileges
would soon swoop in
on downy wings
to save me

It did not happen
overnight.
It started forever ago
with fire

and advanced
with every technological answer
to the question, “Why am I not
God?”

Electricity, light bulbs,
fans, refrigerators,
stoves, irons, telegraphs,
telephones.  Barbed wire.

Steamships
and ironclads.
Repeating rifles and revolvers
and Gatling guns.

Rails
across the country,
the Golden Spike,
the end of suicide pioneering.

With every change, we changed.
It started with fire,
and after that we changed,
kept changing, kept it going.

The first car
needed a driver.
The first television
needed a watcher.

How well we have raised it, this ending,
how thoroughly we have celebrated it
and spread it around.
How determined we’ve been

to keep it safe
behind barbed wire,
our guns at the ready.
How confused we are

that it has gotten away from us.