The Center Cannot Hold

In the taut, menacing air,

we are falling off the edge of the world.

Words slam into us,

from protestors who have no ladders

stretching into the clouds.

We feel the fear sloshing in our bellies,

a thread of panic unraveling…

The quiet quiver,

the commotion of a bee’s wing,

then faces like embers,

a lightening bolt in the head.

The air is now spiky with shadows,

trouble inhabiting our town, our country,

like a silent prowling creature.

Silence laden with wing-beaten air

and shouts swollen to an epic wind.

A sharpened sense

that grasps the injustice

we created.

We cannot lose ourselves

Or turn away.

We cannot let time fold

Neatly in our memories.

It is time to let our sorrows

bring a change of weather finally.

No more wanton indifference.

No more status quo.

Unthread the needle,

of backward beliefs.

Stop the tyrannical wading.

Allow a truly fair and equal life

to rush over everything, everyone,

like water or wind,

and wear it down

until it reveals our humanity.