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When All the Living Ways… Are Gone |
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Time is just movement
upon the clock of Death
ticking
within a dark valley
that opens itself
in a moment
bright
between the waves of time
and the rhythm of a vast ocean.
Mountains talk to the cold winds
far...
far away,
... and jungles remember the mire,
the heat,
the screaming death
of those who died.
... and far away
from the now
of sand and desert,
the young load the bullets of their lives,
and fire away
into an uncertain future.
War is the image of all of our lives.
We have eaten the fruit,
and all
have journeyed so far
within the valley of themselves
that it seems
all of us
were lost,
lost,
to the wonder and the horror
of it all.
You cry when you see me naked,
scarred,
and alone.
The Sky turns to Orange,
and yet
the dying clouds remain alive,
as Birds in Winter
upon cold branches.
We sing!
you and I.
We sing!
But do we understand it
... at all? |
By
Lou J. Klaiber
Copyright 2004
Listed
January 18, 2010 |
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