The Scales

All you need to do
is listen to understand
that the scales are buckling
and near collapse.
When they fail at last
and nothing 
can be weighed and
the numbers trusted,
will we disagree
on what heavy
and light mean?
Maybe we’re already there.
A stone is thrown
and a child falls to the ground
to lie there unmoving.
The body fell with
a dense thud. The body fell with
no sound, as does a feather.
The stone was huge,
hurled with intention
by someone with great power.
The stone was light, simply tossed,
a great accident deeply regretted. 
Now we’ve got to move the body
and figure out what to do next.
Whoever picks it up
needs to be prepared for how hard
that will be and how far
it will have to be carried
to wherever it will rest
and that lady we used to depend on
to keep the now-useless scales 
can’t help with any of that. 

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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