it seems we’ve been
memorializing the dead for months
transcending the world of blood
like birds above the sea
some ascended in the illness of age
some in the pagan flames
of grief and treachery
and we spoke softly
weeping
our palms held flat
predicting nothing
presenting nothing
holding the vanity of our existence
like candles waiting to be lit
at the banquet feast
it seems we’ve been
crossing the river for years
like flung stones skipping
believing in stopping
just above the surface
shadows forever below
topsides forever dry
forgetting the far bank
(that beckons like doves returning with branches)
mere stones gleaming like diamonds
our eyes turned inward
our thoughts
fortresses
it seems we’ve been saying
these things since the beginning
like statues on Pacific islands
like Indus valley ruins
like snakes winding on garden trees
“Erect for yourself monuments,
for there is nobility in darkness!”
and so we cover ourselves in silk
fearing love is an enemy
singing songs to the walls
of Jericho
(April 1999)
pilgrimakimbo 