Safely arrived in Montréal after a very long and tiring journey! But totally worth it. I’m only here until Friday, and intend to make the most of it… thinking about a day trip to Québec City, as I’ve never been, but maybe I should just relax. And starting the morning write (I meant to type “right”, but I think I’ll leave the error) with an answer to We Write Poems‘ prompt about Mars. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled about space exploration and going new places and the wonders of science, but I have to wonder what hidden sacrifices we make when we get all caught up in that. I think we’re perfectly capable of preserving our planet while we put out feelers to others, but then, I watched a lot of Star Trek as a kid. Anyway, mythology and science and caution braided together for this one.
I’m participating in Joanne Merriam’s Intermittent Visitors project, so perhaps you will see some collaborative journeys on here in the near future…
God of War
rusted through and toothless now,
all his arsenal expended on this long
dust devils come to make his bed,
flowers of ice peel away at his touch,
and every action is a process
whittling away at this
frozen blood that cannot be called
for his escutcheon. A chasm
where he weeps. Boulders
shaped like historical faces,
long since departed. History
locked into underfoot grit.
of how things used to be,
sending its tears to drip across
the pockmarked surfaces
of his cheeks.
What can he give anymore except
He turns in the light:
he is a hard piece of carnelian,
odem and sardios ringing in his own
What an enchantment is his color
on the unpracticed eye:
what a spell
to echo his own forgetting.
What does destruction offer?
For the memory of all the fragile
greenery of a world, just this:
his own sorrow,
his murdered lessons,
that do not decay with time.