Sunday, September 11, 2011

Into the Terror

Little band of little people,
separated, not as cream from milk,
but night from day;
angry about what is and isn’t,
fearful of what’s next,
wagering against all hope,
expecting less as victor.

Hatred on a short fuse,
mistrust fully wired,
xenophobia amped to max,
sacrificial lives dehumanized,
calculating rage’s dispersion, contagion,
betting on proliferation.

Surprised, overwhelmed, suffocated
by destruction’s carnage, intensity;
help arrives from four corners,
order, compassion begin,
Gilead’s balm overflows.

Sorting through rubble,
ferreting life’s meaning,
forced inventory of value,
prioritizing future’s map.

Defining moments like waves,
lap our shores methodically,
tumbling smooth jagged edges.

God only knows who will triumph,
terror’s disconnect or holy’s hope.

Just in: Love wins?

© September 2011 Todd Jenkins

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