the alchemy of fear
on any given afternoon
in this season of grey light
jesus christ is murdered
i am not here to
approve
or disapprove
am not a believer in
anything beyond the cradle of
my cracked and bleeding hands
and some of you may
recognize this poem
this unconscious clenching
of the jaw
this benediction of crows offered
silently on I-88 out where
the indians have reclaimed
the billboards as
their own
what i never knew at
twenty-three was that my anger
would slowly melt into
resignation
the same empty battles fought
day after day for ten years
until the morning i wake up sick with
the realization that
nothing will ever be won
and what can i do
for this one small boy but love him
and how can this ever
be enough?
what i learned
from my own childhood was
bitter resentment
the alchemy of
fear into self-doubt and then
how to forge a weapon
from my weaknesses
or maybe something
less
maybe only a wall
or maybe nothing more
than a thin sheet of glass
this room too bright despite
all of the doubts that
cover the sun
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