LatinosUSA

Death of Empathy

When empathy died
the soldiers could dance
in the streets they’d cracked
wearing the underwear of the women
whose homes they had destroyed.
And dance they did with pride.

When empathy was dead
the soldiers could take children’s toys
from the rubble of their bombed homes
and repurpose them as tank trophies
mascots to be flaunted with pride
while the street cracked
under the weight.

When they had killed empathy
the soldiers could shoot babies
in the head or gut – they chose,
and someone’s daughter 200 times,
or 300 – they could choose.
And they filmed it with pride
from the street’s rubble and cracks.

When empathy was murdered
the soldiers could capture children
and imprison them in cages,
one metre square,
or whatever they chose
until they told them
what they did not know
and then laugh with pride
in the smooth Israeli streets.

When empathy was dead and buried
deep down below the streets’ cracks
and only silence could be heard
Israel was supreme,
a supreme being,
godlike in its power.
Human rights were dead,
humans would follow
any of them
even all
would fall
through the streets of cracks
until the un-cracked power and pride
was cracked.

First published in “Street Cracks,” Four Feathers Press

~~

Cracking Open

Concrete and clay
glass ensconced
in metal frames,
paint on board,
gas in pits,

once
it meant something
once
it had a purpose.

It’s over now
purposeless
cracked
empty
waiting
for a future
hoping
that soon
something
will make its way
through the cracks
as time passes.

So now
look
carefully,
see
already
something
is emerging

finding its way
making
a new beginning
after the end.

First published in “Alternate Route,” Issue 8

~~

Towering In Time

They thought it the time
to build a cathedral
with gothic towers
reaching as high
as the clouds.

It seemed like time.

But as the tower rose
the dry ground crumbled
and cracked around it
leaving only a few
distorted stones
behind.

And in time
the forest grew
and grew
and the cloud descended.

It had seemed like time
but it was too late,
much too late.

The cracks were already open.
The foundations had fractured
and there was no one to watch
its decay.

First published in Spell Jar Press, “Teacakes and Tarot”

~~

Shepherds Warning

A new dawn breaks
red
lighting up the sky
colouring the clouds
cracking
grey
to pink.

But shepherds warn
still
of stormy times
even
as the paler tints move in
the dark stays
breaks
fragments the red.

As dawn
cracks
chaotic
it’s unclear
which forces
shall prevail

when dawn
becomes
day.

First published in “Poets Online, Ages Of The Day” issue

~~

The Shattered Glass

The glass has been shattered.
Safely shattered,
with no sharp shards.
With no damage to anyone,
seemingly.
But someone is missing.
Only her absence is revealed
in the shattered glass.
Perhaps she is broken,
shattered
like the glass,
but not safely.
If only the shattered glass
could reveal her
presence.
If only
the cracks would heal.

First published in “Blognostics”

~~

Imperfect

It will never be the same again
the broken pot
knocked over
it’s perfection destroyed,
not beyond repair
just forever imperfect
patched up
with little spaces left
cracks
where the light shines through.

I thought I could recreate its magic
perfect it
anew
repair it
with molten gold
and shining jewels
that reflect the light
make it perfect
in its imperfection
leaving a few cracks
to enhance its
mystery.

And light,
carrying the past into the present.

First published in Fevers of the Mind, “Avalanches in Poetry 3, Leonard Cohen”