The Monument For All To See

 As many men made monuments
And many more were making still,
I built the scaffold with intents
To also boast upon this hill.

 A structure great enough to show
The splendor of my work and craft
To those who saw it may they know
That this is glory that will last.

 They saw that it was thin and square
And lacking any artistry
So full of holes exposed to air
And did not look a bit like me.

 But when my children looked and saw
The magnum opus of my soul
They jumped with glee and stood in awe
And knew at once what was their role.

 They built their structure from the base
I flattened down and leveled true,
And worked to quicken up their pace
Until their craft was finished too.

 The day had come to now unveil
As people gathered 'round to mock.
A rocket ship that soon would sail
To places far beyond the stars.

 The people all beheld the sight
The hill that shook so violently
As fire soared across the sky
Our monument for all to see. 
 

A Pillar of Stones

My regrets were a pillar of unsteady stones

As it propped up a roof that was littered with holes.

In the rain I was cold and at night so exposed

But I knew nothing else but this shack I called home.

 

With the threat of collapse looming just overhead

Came a knock at the door from a stranger instead.

“I am sorry… I’d answer your knocking,” I said,

“But I’m holding the pillar upholding this shed.”

 

Silhouetting the doorway, the man had begun,

“I have heard from your friend, which is why I have come —

He’s the expert repairman, and I am his son.

Please let go, and then exit this shanty at once.”

 

“I refuse,” came the words before I myself knew,

“I’m afraid to let go,” were what followed them too.

His response was a sigh as he entered the room,

“I suppose I must break some unfortunate news.”

 

“There’s a storm on the way, and the biggest they’ve seen.

And a storm of that size will wipe all of this clean.

So it’s hopeless to tie yourself down to that beam.

If you stay, you will die, do you get what I mean?”

 

“So I’m destined to perish here no matter what?

Since my arms are the only thing holding this up?”

To my horror, my hands began shaking because

I could not even stomach that sickening thought.

 

As the pillar responded with creaking and groans

The repairman supported the column of stones.

With his arms wrapped above, he responded below,

“Do you see? I will hold it so you can let go.”

 

Though my body was stiffened and stuck in one place,

I released my two hands ’til they hung at my waist.

When the thrill of the motion had coursed through my veins,

I took off like an animal fleeing a chase.

 

I was greeted by clouds hanging low to the north

With a wind and a fury of waves surging forth.

As my eyesight adjusted, I turned to my home

Whose foundations had caved with a terrible force.

 

Was my life in that shack worth the risk for this man?

Was there something he knew that I can’t understand?

My regrets were a pillar of now fallen stones

That collapsed on my rescuer, breaking his bones.

 

In a rush I collapsed to my knees and began

To unearth all the ruins as quick as I can.

With complete disregard for the pain in my hands

And a fear that his trade was a part of his plan.

 

From the rubble he rose slightly worse for the wear,

“I’m afraid that your home is in need of repair.”

He remarked with a grin and a brush of his hair,

“We were lucky it fell when you weren’t in there.”

 

“Let us leave for my house while the weather is fair.

We’ve a room you can use that’s already prepared,”

He was hurt but unfazed like a victor declared.

“And we’ll start the rebuilding whenever you care.”

Snow Numb

There are echoes of snow-crunching boots

On these tracks I have tread in the past,

With a new slice of ice underneath

That has deepened a fear of my mass.

 

As my tremorous knees seek relief,

Through the fog I perceive solid ground,

But the crackings strike chills in my ears

As the stinging of frost bite my crown.

 

Yet the sight of the driftings above

Which are pregnant with blanketing snow

Are the markers of time marching on

Never pausing or ceasing to flow.

 

‘Though my feet, which are frozen in fear,

Are unwilling to move like the skies,

I shall do as the heavenlies do

And awaken this sleeper of mine.

 

 

The Most Difficult Thing to Do

When we witness the violence that people commit

We declare that these monsters we cannot permit.

Yet it’s strange that we humans will never admit

That they also are humans, not demons from myth.

 

It is humans who rip away mother from child

And the same who would trample a fellow when riled.

And the instant we glance at the skulls we have piled

We will know in our hearts that our race is defiled.

 

But acknowledging this is a beautiful thought,

Because monsters are creatures who cannot be fought.

And accepting the truth can more often than not

Redirect our attention to things we forgot.

 

That despite the injustice mankind can display

We can harness a goodness in much the same way

By perceiving each other as people who stray

And then showing true mercy as well as good grace.