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.
I witnessed the starving infant soul,
the mother’s empty womb, manic,
unrelenting, as if sorrow’s barricade
held remorse fast and wicked.
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.
I answer indifferent, these are concerns
which hold no reference, violence and
greed are reactionary disciples of ignorance,
long ago, forgiveness wiped me clean.
Returning to my present reality, I discover
nothing has changed, all is as it has
always been, save one distinction, I no
longer worry for fate of man.