SEVENTH WEEK TUESDAY: EVIL FAKES ITS OWN DEATH/GOODNESS AND MERCY NEVER FAKE LIFE


I.

EVIL FAKES ITS OWN DEATH

 

The strangling vine seems to be brittle and dead

as winter approaches.

The creeping white of root rot seems to settle downwards

out of sight in the mists of autumn.

The invasive stinging stink of chemicals burning then reported

move out of town.

The vulture cleans up roadside slaughter  and then slowly

sails to the next county.

The little hens’ nest of gossip retires away and nobody knows any details

in the here and now.

The snakeskin rest on the basement steps after the slither takes the poison

to curl away in the creekbank.

 

The screeching tires and wild eyes turn the corner into a descending cloud of

frayed synapses and blocked passages.

The crashing nightsticks batter amidst the sleeping tents, piling revenge upon deprivation

into an ill-assortment crowding the dawn.

The changed words drift down upon the kneeling at the altars collecting heart-sadness

at yet one more eventide.

Darkness falls–evil curls and crouches in committees.

 

II.

GOODNESS AND MERCY REBORN IN THE DEWDROPS AT DAWN

 

Dewdrops at dawn quiver witgh expectations of bejewelment

in the sunrise.

Birds’ first shy chirp testing the air

from a treetop.

A sudden gust of ripening pear breeze carries away

exhaust fumes.

Neighbor’s young dog yipping with the joy at the first

grass-run of the new day.

New sprout-greens flickering in a communal garden

bless the eye of the oldster-and-

Fresh-washed pavement tickles the nose of the jogger

who thought he would not notice.

A gentle smile, nod, and wave from a neighbor driving out

oh, so, care-fully.

A flipped-open newssheet blocking out the details of

new charities and steadfast democracy.

A special touch at a healing altar rejoices the heart and

stands in the legs rising up.

Goodness and mercy spiral up to shine in new light before all giving life.

 

 

 

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