Member-only story
The Broken Promise
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Praise music that refused to play at the funeral of democracy.
and the killing cold that swept through Washington
when the fake Pope took power…
Praise the convict fire fighters on the front lines in L.A.,
battling the insurmountable for ten dollars a day. We gambled
our future for a hot air balloon with a hole in it. Praise
our reckless hubris, and the infinite distractions
of the hall of mirrors we find ourselves in now, and bless
our overwhelmed brains, scurrying like mice for shelter…
Bless our collective rage, and protect
the officers who stood up on January 6th and now see their attackers
roaming the streets like rabid dogs, ah, bless the animals
we have always been, in our coats and shoes
and clumsy language, bless our willful ignorance,
so enormous, so world-altering, that, like the great wall of China,
it can be seen from outer space,
where the gods are shaking their heads even now,
in pity and in awe.
