A Day After…

Who understands

Waging war on whims,

Westerly winds blowing offense

Across the tides;

Easterly winds decide which child cries

And which child dies?

Death by incendiary suicide.

Not I.

A day after…

And many years more,

The towers that fell

Stand not of stone,

But something insubstantial

And stronger still.

Is there meaning in that light?

Yes; I’d like to pray,

Perhaps, a peace of mind.

It rests there,

Along with whims and sins,

All those thoughts

Attributed to religions.

A vision of divinity,

Beheld by a multitude of eyes

Among the masses,

Fractured along humanity

(Because, surely, there is no God

Among rivers and dogs).

Sacrilegious, selfish, scared,

Splintered thoughts…

Who commands them?

Who understands insanity…

The day after?

–C. Green

 

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