Injustice thrives in silence
god never died;
was never alive.
except in human hearts
where the embers glow
and crackle upon
gentle pressure
to warm a biting
winter morning
where the lake stands
still, awaiting spring
so it may sway and churn
to let us know it
teems with life
No one remembers when
the eternity war began
though the elders will
whisper stories that the
young dismiss as fantasy
as they put on tan fatigues
assemble their carbines
and head into a land
they have never known
to meet a people
who know not
peace
Once green and verdant,
winter leaves sit and decay
methodically
on mud-caked concrete, gazing
up at their former glory
Valor is
a false king
on a crimson throne.
The suburbs
a continually cracking
edifice to an illusion
Borders
ink lines on paper
at the drafter’s desk
the pen as potent
as the eraser
Beyond knee-high grass
onward to the Laughing Tree
dancing with joyful
autumn colors, ablaze, even
though few ever came to watch
