LatinosUSA

Before and Again

The we of my belief lived in a land
of easy comfort, brief and surface woundings,
even when tussled by history
that lasted a month on our portable television.
 
We swept the broken pieces into piles
thinking our bonfires would destroy memories.
We continued to sweep invisible gravel,
rusted fenders, and chicken shit into squares.
 
Over the years, unnoticed by us, trash piled up
behind the propane tanks and storage sheds,
but the squares out front distracted us with
their seeming importance and sheen.
 
One day we made breakfast for our children
and sent them off to school; within minutes
we began the crossing through broken glass.
Looking down I saw scraps of torn angel wings.
 
Now we live in a land new to us, with patched
windows and doors, having stuffed the shards
into our hearts so that they are bulky jabby
things we have to handle with Kevlar gloves.