The Storm – A New Poem

I tried to write a folk song
but I didn’t know enough people.
Now I’m left with broken strings
and a mangled, strangled heart.
*
Love should be the wings that rise us
above the muck and the mud.
But sometimes it carries us too far
and we are singed by the sun.
*
If my words have caused you harm
know that my intentions were pure.
But sometimes the only way forward
is to be baptized in the fire.
*
Perhaps it’s me who is wrong
and my hill is a lonely hill —
devoid of the olive trees
that once served us so well.
*
And sometimes the maze pops up around you
with walls so high they blot out the sun.
And you think to yourself that things will get easier
but in the darkness, you don’t know where to turn.
*
Still, change is necessary —
progress, the will of the world.
Those who block the path before us
must be shown the way.
*
And when you find yourself herded
by gatekeepers keeping score only they can see,
trust in the ones who know you best
but fight for the ones underfoot.
*
Heroes were created by the downtrodden
as a way to organize this life.
The real ones are not as they are in stories
because everyone has blood on their hands.
*
Silence is for the privileged
and something too expensive for most.
Our voices are our unique statement,
etching our souls onto the unfinished blueprint.
*
Our gazes will again meet
but will we still see ourselves in others?
Or will our eyes be glued shut,
handicapping us to what is real?
*
Yet, I would still wish to hear the song of songs —
of nature and life resilient.
The drums of war fading,
as that marching band is dismantled.
*
And this leaves us on shaky ground —
waiting and hoping and wishing and praying,
for the path to present itself
and rescue us from the storm.
*