Monday, December 17, 2012

For Newtown

In A Silent City

Walk the streets of this silent city walk
all day all night and on into the next
until the sound of your footfalls ebb
by degrees, an eternity thin as
a bee’s wing between them, each one orphaned
to aimlessness stark as a sonar ping.
Find yourself before a modest house find
the courage to let yourself in to roam
empty stillborn rooms waxen in twilight
leaning lightly on a carved newel that will
never wear down beneath a warm steady
erosion of hands, their fingers destined
never to still the lips of whispering
lovers or sweep hair back from the foreheads
of feverish children or ever so
carefully lower yielding lids over
grateful eyes spared searing indelible
etching.  Small fingers laced in eternal
salvation from thoughts of putting a gun 
to God's temple and pulling the trigger.
Pray you’ll find the door and leave this house pray
for all the good it will do, solemn walls
silent witness to what will never be.

No comments:

Post a Comment