Except
March 20, 2017
Today I walked longingly
through splintered barricades
where we wept. You faded,
in a hushing, ferocious way,
like a trampled flower once alive
and then snuffed out. And I’m sorry
that everything changes,
that the world you knew
could never be reformed,
and that every impulse since
has disappointed or dismantled
what you believed was love.
I’m sorry that the Love you had
has been diluted by poison rain.
And I’m sorry you are bridled
by knowing that everything changes,
that winds die down and ice melts,
that fathers make sorry mothers
and mothers neglect their children,
that evergreens die someday
and some storms contain no rainbow,
that our creations are not sustainable
by sheer will. I’m sorry
you seem to think that
since everything changes
so does Love. But it doesn’t.
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