Oh Wally, old mouse, we are such kin,
not to be engulfed by the voice of God,
we beat it back with the mundane and steady.
There is no greenworld without Hiroshima bombed,
No peace without the screaming white light
clean and soulless at its heart
leaving a ring of grey, ash covered mutilation at the perimeter.
The dead bodies are unacceptable to us,
but who are we, not scientists, to contain this mess.
We know the fire.
We shake with the storm.
Fear me.
I seek the greenworld through the blast.
I hear the engines scream and cannot deny them.
The actuaries cannot manage risk like this.
Wally, nothing guards us.
We must and do burn.
--KMH Copyright 2002
Posted by karen at February 1, 2002 12:00 AM