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Poem

in the uncoloured tint of another everyday
amongst the spit polished waxed apples
tightly packed in burlap bags
they walked like minded
in their own burly wrap
oblivious to the irony
to their similarity 
of the markets round red fruit
unaware of the tragedy
the horror of events yet to come

it will rain metal shrapnel
as human minds grasp
with the purpose of their existence
as in their ignorance
they understand their worth as human bombs
with a belief the heavens will open the gates
with a fanfare and a promised blessing
for their divine act of unquestioned belief

the clay shaped bricks
the black iron metal stairs 
the drum sound of engines
then the lull 

not after

but before 

before

the pulse of the storm
the rain of death

yet this moment captured
this photograph
with man and child in hand
smells sweet
you wonder

bemused

why?

the world travels
aimlessly
singularly

no one 

nothing in the universe

suggests
exposes
even a hint
even a glimpse
not a clue

that would lead

reveal 

an answer.

life in its contradiction
like the proverbial apple
offers both
the miracle
the curse.




09/23/2014

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