From my vantage point
on the moon
I can’t see
all the tragedies,
all the miseries.
It just looks beautiful
placid and marbled blue,
like a tackily decorated
bowling ball
floating silently
in the black sea,
that infinite night.
From here
I don’t see
the child rapers
the abusive husbands,
the neglectful mothers,
the philanthropist
who works hardest at
keeping his pedophilia
a secret,
the hungry stealing
what others
have scavenged
from grocery store
dumpsters.
No from here
I can’t see
the sumptuous, fatuous
well-to-do
and their brilliantly constructed
sneering justifications.
But I did see
the swirling clouds,
the swath of destruction,
and the cries echoed
all the way
where I heard
and couldn't do
a thing,
just like always.
I always wonder
why you think I’m
always smiling.
I'm crying.
The moon is traditionally seen as feminine, and so it shouldn't surprise to see her depicted as bent over the world, watching, caring, crying for the things that go spectacularly wrong.
ReplyDeletedid you ever see Watchmen...makes me think of the Blue Guy retreating to the moon...really feel you as well in the end...crying...at what our world in many ways has become...
ReplyDeleteThis was just amazingly powerful. It snuck up on me. Strong, strong poem, poet friend, especially when it makes us cry. Thank you for writing!
ReplyDelete