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Your Burnt Edges

Monday, 9. January 2012 20:00

the enso

A grove of burnt pine trees in Bandelier National Park

"Scorched" by marlowe

the poem

They say a scorched moth is later
quite shy but you continue still,
brave because you have no choice
but to rise from the coals,
not like a phoenix
but more like a spine
standing amid the blitz
as though these bombs
are the least of your worries. Your trunk
is charred, its past unrecognizable, brittle,
old rings forgotten by new growth.
Your green tips reveal hope, forever
reaching for the future, the sky, you will
not pause for survivor’s guilt
or speculation. Here comes
another storm.

Category:Ephemeral, Plant | Comments Off | Autor:

At the American Indian War Memorial in Santa Fe

Monday, 10. October 2011 20:45

the enso

Profile of the American Indian War Memorial at the Plaza in Santa Fe

"It Boils Down To This" by marlowe

the poem

Your efforts — voluntary or conscripted —
have been reduced like a soup’s broth
to this rod of stone piercing
through the center of a plaza. You are
memorialized, the destiny manifested,
and each subsequent settlement,
every march Westward,
is now a roadside plaque, a whisper.
Do you care? Did you
believe in the cause as you drank
water from cracked pueblo pottery
or did you bend to obligation, either way
succumbing to someone else’s
yoke. Was your family given
gold or a legua of land in payment
for your service? Do you sit
with the pigeons when you visit
this site? Do your descendants recognize
your sacrifice, so duly noted? Do they stop
to read the names or see the birth
of an empire later reduced to etchings
and artifacts, set aside as another
opportunity opened?

Category:Ephemeral, Human | Comments Off | Autor: