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THE MIRROR STANDS BEFORE US (The 4th October Violent Verse)

The mirror now stands before us, Torn sleeves and skin,
she's come to watch the sorrow dripping down, the sap
of our veiled shame, our abysmal indifference… Disgrace,
the fickle comrade, has not discouraged her,
kept her from loving us fully though she’s been seen
weeping in the temple of mankind.

We try to imagine her echo shattering man’s tall ceiling
and the sharp storm falling down over the world,
we even imagine massaging the ache from her body
but our hands remind her of her fathers.

Bleeding out across the landscape, she covers her eyes
with our callused paws and the pale swag of decay
As we step away, stagger back from ourselves,
unable to let go, our scent upon her pain.

The mirror speaks to us and tries to hold us in,
to rescue us a small piece at a time as our rooted shame
draws back our arms to strike-
caught in this snapshot of our pre-existing condition
we look stunned, wild animals paralyzed by the light.


© 2009 mrp/thepoetryman



American Violence; A Documentary History
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