Wednesday, July 13, 2022

holy poem, after the death of god


snow all afternoon but
nothing is made beautiful

 

no one is considered holy

 

at some point
the last city is built
and then there is only slow decay

 

sons are shot and
daughters raped and all of
the missing are given names

 

and some of them come home
while others are martyred

and there is always the threat of
another religion

 

of the crippled
leading the blind and
of a war that everyone can
believe in

 

a way to kill only the
truly deserving

 

how much of your life are
you willing to waste
making these decisions?




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