Everything starts somewhere – this was a tear.
The tiniest of rips in the fabric we carelessly wear
Until it’s worn and ragged and faded and thin
Tossed in a corner, forgotten, ignored.
For we move on with our lives, our importance.
Our place in the tapestry is brilliant and bold
Woven tight and secure with threads made of gold
And silk of bright hues.
But wait there’s another – a shadowy spot – a black hole.
An anomaly – a freak – a one off – not a soul
Would believe there’s anything amiss in our world.
It is perfect. It’s growing, advancing, controlling
Everything living from here to the stars
That dot the dark sky with the oldest of light.
Those flocks of wings I see move in the night
Are imaginary.
They come by the thousands, no – in millions they swarm.
Their identity altered to weather the storm
And the turmoil created – dug from the earth – continues to spew
Into the sky, now grey with our deeds and
Arrogance steeped in a myopic pot and brewed to a boil
Ingested so sweetly – saturation complete.
Watch a whisper of moths cloaked black in retreat
Tell the tale.
Susan McElroy
Recent Comments