This is written to YOU
Neither gender nor scars
Dictate these words to you,
All of you
(the humble & gullible;
the fiery & guilty)
You saw a young child wander down the rail lines.
Overhead, a flock of sparrows shoot across steel gray skies, pursuing a suspected American crow.
There is no train coming.
You cross the tracks gently,
you think,
to save your shocks,
taking a quick, calculated glance at the child,
further down the tracks,
under the cloud
of warring feathers
For the very first time,
you notice this child
isn't a child at all but a wise
soul choosing not to be
a victim of any particular railroaded solutions.
You've seen him before,
walking along the river or across the seashore
at the foot of the coastal mountain range.
How could this be?
He must be at least
as old as you are.
Count it out the native waySpring, summer, autumn
Spring, summer, autumn
How many have passed?
Very Deja Vu, that.
At the intersection, a crow flies towards the ground
to tear at some dead thing, molded by the tread of a semi-rig.
Time flies and the crow flies
and the light changes.
You take a right
Out of the corner of your eye,
you can't help but notice
Jesus Christ is healing the blind and raising the dead.
Since all literature is literature,
you notice every phonebook
is a bible and every prayer is a song,
written from the very beginning
of time.
The skies open up.
The rain comes down.
