The Cold Lament
Poetry at the Margins
The view from my window tells me that beauty still exists today,
This picture shattered by the summoning howl of my dog from his crate,
Wake up, Daddy. I want to play, eat, and play some more!
Outside, I see cold, bright sunshine, a blanket of snow, and a clear blue sky.
I can see the cold from my warm house.
The snow gives it away, along with other hints of its existence,
but still, I knew of its presence.
The cold is obvious but also tricky.
It lures you in, says all will be well, and then chills you to the bone.
How is it that evil ever wins when there is such beauty? I don’t understand.
Wrapped in the innocuous, presented as normal, conditioned to follow, we go along with its horror.
Its inverted humanity corrupts everything it encounters as it seeps into our faults.
How do I see beauty without lamenting the horror of children?
How do I defend the defenseless?
I ache for beauty to destroy evil and those who empower it.
Like a cocoon, we are being transformed - against our will – for many.
Transformed into the antithesis of humanity and all the goodness and decency we hope for.
Why couldn’t we be like dogs?
Full of love, fun, unencumbered, and always with a forgiving heart ready for cuddles and treats.
I am so disappointed with us.
How do we live with such precious beauty and allow such horror?
Why do they run toward evil and not away from it?
The cold is a great deceiver.
Oh, the humanity.
Oh, the humanity.