Their bodies lie on the cold fields blanketed with snow.
Not frozen. Not dead. Waiting to see what’s to come
from in between the driving flakes- to see what it is
that might find them.
Ordered to be aware as the storm strengthened and became dark.
They dotted the field from the birds eye in formation as though
they were nothing more than small gray flecks. However, the pattern
in which these flecks revealed were not nature born.
And we watch. From our living room chair staring at our walls while the walls
never watch back. Only take. Monitor. Manipulate. Sculpt, speaking to be everything, and we watch. From out kitchen tables while staring at our palms while our hands have become not our own.
All while bodies lay in the cold ground during a new winters storm waiting to be found.
Not done with this. Ran out of my few minutes to write.
We sit, clashing smiles, seeing each other, hoping for blood. Again. It’s not enough to read our history. Word of mouth is a joke we understand, it’ll only play out nicely when we kill one another. Don’t you agree. The boy was confused by the rock. It was a menacing rock. He’d been deep in the woods and fallen asleep next to it. ‘Why do you speak to me, rock.’ the rock did not reply.
It starts one note at a time. Soon, if you pick the truest path, you have a masterpiece. I think the broken humanity we live in has lost its ability to choose truly. We become angry and destroy our own family members with words and sometimes with violence. Then we walk the streets and continue creating more imperfect notes and it spreads through our town and further. In my opinion it’s impossible to not see the divide that’s among us. And yet we blame it on anything other than ourselves without feeling the necessary humility of responsibility through reflection. I don’t feel our leadership can fix it. I don’t feel our government knows even where to begin. I don’t think our churches can fix it. They are at war with one another. They compete for your money and call it belief and are unable to accept differing beliefs without furthering the divide. I do have hope though. To find one true note for myself. I think it’s best to start with me. If I can create my best version then it’s possible to look beyond. To my wife, my son. In my opinion it starts at home. It isn’t about what our leaders might do for us. It never was. They are not in your home nor or in your mind unless you let them be. You are there alone. It’s up to you to choose truly. And maybe then we’ll be on to something.
It goes over most. The wall is so tall, so very tall. Brotherhood isn’t only a word it’s especially not. The wall isn’t so tall to not topple, yet we don’t let one another see past it. Stone mixed with cement and more sand and water builds deeper in our minds than the construction. Some though, harness their everything and see through without ever climbing.