What Have We Become?
As the fog lifted, revealing the ground
She gazed, stunned, not making a sound
The horror hitting her of all she had found
Pock marked craters, a battle here fought
Limbs, bodies torn apart, for nought
She fell to the earth, cried in anguish, thought
What have we become?
As the sun rose, beautifying the sky
He drove to his office in a building high
Not once did he stop and ask himself why
Why the six figure salary? The Aramni suits?
Why the cars and boats, alligator skin boots?
The ravenous faces of the corporate recruits -
What have we become?
As the sun set, coloring everything red
As a tired populace prepared for bed
One turned to the other, looked, and said
"Is life still precious?" - to the edge he creeped
Ans said no more, but choked, and weeped
The question unasked as he knowingly leaped -
What have we become?
As she lay there, just wanteing it to end
Was this what he meant to mean by "friend"?
THe tears she shed to him anger did lend . . .
What have we become?
LIFE
Quite quiet, causing no notice at all
Dew drops on green grass blades reflecting the light
Now nothing draws nigh to hear the faint call
The scarce cry - this worm will begin to fight
His chains shall be broken, and he shall be free
For lo, this occurence has oft hap'd before
It is his fate, his very destiny
Surely what blind providence has in store
Or is it? For others have failed in this place
Or failed to fight, and honour their youth
In failing, do they prove God's distaste?
Or prove fate fails to exist? Here's truth -
If he desires to be a butterfly
The worm's choice is to fight, or die
Though fated, once fighting, to become more
The outcome of the fight's not stone
HIs chains may triumph, may win this war
OR he might prevail - this we know
That weary though he may become
Wishing wings would simply appear
As if by magic, and if not, by some
Other mystical means just be here
Strong though this desire in him may be
The strength he needs has no magic source
Rather, a more simple means we see
The obviousness leading to "Aha! Of Course"
The chains which a prison seem to be
Strengthen that which will set him free
GF 09
I tried to understand the poem but it left me asking myself....
ReplyDeleteWhat indeed have we become??
I respect the creativity of poetry, for me to comprehend these two beauties above took me a whole two hours.
After that I was asking myself: "Have you reached such lows?? Have your abilities to grasp waned like the chubby smile I had only 11 years back??
What indeed have I become??
Thanks for the insight son.
Hey George - thanks for reading! I wrote the first poem when I was 19, I think, and trying to come to grips with what I saw in the world around me. It didn't make sense to me that we all basically start out the same - as relatively innocent children - and yet we are capable of some downright horrible acts. More than any other of God's creatures, we inflict horrible pain on our own kind.
ReplyDelete