I would rather describe
the rain and wind,
how they tear
leaves from trees
tall over my
porch and yard
in a storm of no
consequence,
but children
are being torn
from the arms
of their mothers
over our
border of sanity
and nightmare —
not by rain or wind
but at the end
of the barrel of a gun
of democracy.
At the end
of the barrel
of a gun of democracy,
behind which
we pay no mind
feeling safe
watching our beautiful
movies in comfort
and reading sprawling,
thoughtful books
while drinking
perfect cups
of coffee as
children are taken
from the arms of their mothers
to be detained
in cages or cast
into oblivion,
we are lost.
We are lost
until we
become
the storm of
consequence.
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Photo from Flikr.
