after the black and white of things

after the rain
when the ground smells so sweet

those two lines have
nothing to do with this poem
just felt like writing some pretty words
as a prelude to the dissolution of my thoughts
upon further investigation
any further anxieties submerged
in the flow and flowering of words
as they become st(r)ings (and arrows)
around the core
of my being and somehow reeled in
like little fish, being eaten by bigger fish,

I've stopped asking why people kill one another in the name
of God--
whose name
is on every breath before the battles rage on and on,
one
nation indivisible
equally divided by nations upon nations until the land itself
is barren

I've stopped worshiping the God of Compassion, that s/he
would come down from wherever s/he is and show her/himself
and I
pity the world that knows no compassion...
even as I pity my own paltry self...

These days I just wonder why I ever bought a white plastic kitchen
garbage can instead of black one.