A Weighted Detour
I devoured the angry arches of denial,
where chaos holds no penance,
far beyond our physical failures,
and guilt a transcending illusion.
The pride of man shatters with every
footfall, lost to little more than languishing
turbulence, deceit’s ember mortality,
dowsed in innocent requiem.
My sibling species, entangled in
ethnic macramé, finds beauty far
deeper, far more precious, than
glossy backdrop and vacuous image.
I am asked once again, what of the
violent hordes that raped our innocence,
what of vengeance, accountability, and
eternal damnation, what of these.