in front of me the darkness

i.

in front of me the blindness
behind me the light

from where comes this madness
this horror that is poetry?

I step away from the edge for a
moment, review my life,

plunge into the darkness.


ii.

why do you ask for pity?

the mortal coil splinters
sputters, runs out of breath
we are sheeple, rising to a crescendo

I wince, I take pictures of eternity

iii.

a convoy of humanity is turned away in Egypt,
parallels a family; mother, father, son

25 years after Bhopal, after a vulture waiting in Sudan
and a suicide

the Dalai Lama will never go home again, we're too busy
buying *made in China*
and feeding the starving tank makers, we've forgotten how
to think for ourselves;
I know why we kill each other
we're cowards and haven't the guts to kill ourselves, to
separate us from all the pain we see.

I do not wish to leave a poem without a happy ending.  I still have
faith.  I still believe that light is all there is.  And though I am
fallen.  I pick myself up.

Look to the light in your eyes to carry us across these cold, forlorn shores.