“Great nations are not made of friendly
flowers,” tweets the vainglorious beast. His
words exude lush dragon greed that smells
like bacon to believers. “Great predators
make towers of killings to supply my
chosen fresh meat,” says he. “Who needs
pretty snacks for pollinators?” Still, delicate wings
lift prayers from deeper domains — Lepidoptera,
Aves, Primate, Angel. Executive borders mean nada to
agents of Creation. Over millennia our neighbors migrated
home, leaving death for sanctuary, metamorphosis.
But the cunning beast knows his time is short, so he
kidnaps everyone’s future. Dude’s poison fame sprays far
and wide. White acolytes fan his loco flames as he turns ravening
machine – part Shere Khan, part Paul Bunyon, with metal
claws like a transformer. His churchlings wash those paws
with tears from sacrificed children of color. Rumbling
toward life’s giving host, he targets the garden of
medicine. Particles of love in all
rejoin. El cielo está abriendo. Her
kaleidoscope readies for chaos.
Effectively awed by the techniques you’ve marshalled in this one to remix the living nightmare of the “vainglorious beast” with butterfly & bird migrations and the No-Tolerance for asylum seekers debacle, which resulted in so many Mothers and their Children callously separated indefinitely — I’m unable to leave the page yet.
Clauses I keep going back to reread:
* “delicate wings / lift prayers from deeper domains”
* “our neighbors migrated / home, leaving death for sanctuary, metamorphosis.”
Thank you Rob for reading deeply, and for your mindful comment about this poem. Some years ago, while traveling through rural France with family, we happened upon an out-of-the-way museum devoted to memories of occupation. I’ll never forget my awe when I walked into a room packed with books and pamphlets that were written and published by the resistance. Here’s to freedom from bullies, and heartfelt words.