thursday, january twentieth, two thousand five

High noon,
still no sign of sun,
clouds lower overhead,
the very puddles
reach the sky,
muddled thoughts
fill my world with
shades of grey.

this miraculous mirror
on the world
gives no reason for joy,
as if some dark force
weaves itself
our entire kingdom.

Surrounded by troops,
while snipers survey the crowds
our newly-crowned king

“We have seen our vulnerability, and we have seen its deepest source. For as long as whole regions of the world simmer in resentment and tyranny — prone to ideologies that feed hatred and excuse murder — violence will gather, and multiply in destructive power, and cross the most defended borders and raise a mortal threat.”

promises to bring
freedom to the world
while Hajj pilgrims symbolically stone Satan
and, putting a modern face on slaughter
Turkish authorities try to clean up ritual killing

Feeling like
some freshly-gored
fisher king,
I cannot help but wonder
if one must
sacrifice the heart
in order to leave
no room for despair.