Email Poem

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Poem

A gray cloud hangs ominously
On the horizon, overshadowing
The last golden rays of the sun.
Below, Damocles waits;
The sword hangs by a hair!
In a great white building
Men and women squabble -
Moving chess pieces to
Make decisions that affect
Crises of lives and livelihoods,
One-upmanship the game of the day.

Meanwhile the black cloud grows,
And thunder begins to rumble.
Lightning flashes in the cloud.
A man comes out of the building -
Waving and crying triumphantly,
“We got what we wanted!”
And the thunder rolls, and brilliant
Bolts of lightning strike the ground.
The rains come, and the winds whip,
Tearing the shelter from those
Flinching helpless, beneath.

Jobs vanish; the sick have no succor.
Wall Street flails from the
Shock waves of decisions forged
At the last possible minute
By the heedless powers that be.
Reverberations circle the globe,
Shaking the foundations 
Of our integrity and credibility.
In the terrible ensuing storm,
Hopes for the future are dashed,
And Damocles is truly lost,
For the sword has fallen!

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