Ljiljani
April 11, 2008
There’s the crack, where we saw the mortar fall.
My brother and I. It split the boards, lit
The church ablaze. We held our heads and cried
For the war. The stupid war.
The whole world was fighting,
Each new idea rose from the darkness with teeth.
Now in the church, little purple flowers spill forth.
The mortar, buried deep, takes seed.
Life comes again. Death machines are put away.
In the moonlight the empty church is quiet.
Gone are my saints, my stations of the cross.
Here there is nothing but the ancient sky.
O vastness of space. O great and shining ideal.
What thoughts of nation did each angel hold,
When Lucifer climbed that Arcadian mount
And blew his clarion to the wind?
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