revised. originally posted 11/19/2020.
Last night you lay awake terrified
by the sound of this country honking
its changes, ripping the night.
So harsh, that sound of your illusions
soaring, diminishing, flying away.
You stayed up polishing weapons. At dawn
when you raised the living room blinds, what was
on the ground below the window? One cardinal,
three chickadees, two mourning doves;
all pecking, scratching, cooing. Far less noise
than the night before. This is your country
in daylight. You live here;
you are expected
to put up your sword
and feed those birds.
January 26th, 2021 at 5:16 pm
“the sound of your illusions flying away” At least you had some to enjoy, however briefly. I’ve outlived my capacity for illusions. All I have left is the hope that someday, we will be remembered as the world’s fleeting hope for freedom and peace.