Monday, April 17, 2006

The Egg Eaters (An Easter Poem)

The children whisper with chubby fingers
pressed against pursed lips

"They eat eggs whole,
you know.."

Drop the smoothly covered creations
into boiling silver pools

like pipes....

One man's dinner
another man's future?

A perfect human food it seems...

and what of dreams? Well they are

A child
watching them step over the
aftermath of rage
yellow and wasted
a line in the road
that babyboy walks
like humpty dumpty

while we
in the tall grass

And what of dreams?

Dreams are
Babygirl watching
of people become powder
in shock

as each one takes one
to feed another
as each one
crowns with thistles
a brother
word for word mortal combat
pierced in the side where
our missing rib should be

nailed the hands that prayed for us
spat on the gift
Saying we have no brothers but us

So full of us that we can't see You, Father

Help us we're
falling, swiftly, ubiquitously and deliberately

It weighs heavily
as your highly favored people
again sink
to a new low

What is truth? Pilate asked
To what name does it answer?

the truth is
We pray with pick axes
send each other long stemmed mirrors
and blind each other
with our own shards

the truth is our emptiness
is a misdirected bullet
pointed at our own hearts

Perhaps in our worst moments we are
no better than animals
eating our own eggs
to spite a rival lover

Maybe the truth is
"If people lie to God everyday in their prayers
and thoughts and actions
what makes you think they won't lie to you?"

Maybe our hearts are really
white walls
screaming on the inside
as screams
in whipped steam
and dreams

Maybe in every hateful heart is a
a song of sixpence
dying to sing
My God,
My sweet God
have you forsaken

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