marching to Bethlehem
Things fall apart
The center does not hold
We, along the periphery
scramble for survival
All our pretty goals
dissolved in the face
inevitable despair brings
The wise babble desperate incantations
The weak of will and mind
sing Hallelujahs and kick the peasants
as they pass
Perhaps we are in the hallway
of a great reckoning
The very Earth grumbles loudly
threatening to rescind Her bounty
Men of illwill, men of destiny
proudly proclaim their birthright
to pillage, to plunder, to prey upon
chaos and destruction
If only the poets sang truth in such
majestic certainty, with such
charismatic humor and allure
Things fall apart
coalesce
reconfigure
Here, along the periphery
we carry our burdens
sinking ever more deeply
into rotten crevices
singing our selves
into sleep.
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