By the Waters of the Bay
We were not there
to welcome them home
but came later in the long
evenings when nightmares
ravaged their sleep. Peace
had walled in the horrors
hiding in the heads of good men.
Big blocks gave room
for games and unfenced spaces
weakened what had, in hard times,
glued generations together.
No authority held sway
over an open sky. Man rode
high in the territories of the gods.
Distant wars festered
under the gaze of cameras
and played out each night
in black and white until souls,
calloused by the count,
sought salvation in a haze
of chants and love.
Economics rescued us
and gave a pure purpose
to our lives. Sober, swollen
with cliches we set about
our sacred task
to feed the appetites
of a rampant want.
We argued our exemption
from the sins of common man
and bequeathed to others
the burden of our waste.
Reason was traded for a job
or abandoned to the promised
clean up by a coming god.
They now talk of plans
to colonize Mars as a lifeboat
in case extinction comes to pass.
I sit and watch a bloodshot sun
sink into the waters of the bay
and worry about how long
my roses will last.
Copyright © Paul Willason | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment