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THEY OWE US NOTHING

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They owe us nothing, we watched, and we saw everything. We understand the pain all our choices still bring. Suffering still, the mental battles once lost. Buying a life worth living -  such a high cost. We were jacks of all trades, yet masters of none, Toy soldiers unaware a war had begun. Confused, we never knew which side to take. Damn the night and the choices we would make. Sins never mattered, no judgment to face, Strange atonements, stains easy to erase. The memories remain to remind us - Histories remain, they will not blind us. We are always here watching and waiting, Perverse obsessions, anticipating. Calling out for help in your mortal realm; Let go of the choices, we’ll take the helm. No need to prove yourself, no battles here, Walk away before choices reappear. Never return, nothing here that you need; Life cuts you in pieces to watch you bleed. Bind your wounds, bind each thought, action and word. Choice is a les...
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THE BALANCE I listen to the waves rushing ashore; the ebb and flow The rhythmic beating of life’s measured cadence Keeping pace with what must come and what must go Illuvial grounds preparing for a blessed nascence I watch as the sun arrives; lifting its light from the east We know nothing of our treasured reliance Reaping her nourishment, each day a new feast Yet taken for granted 'neath this unspoken alliance The wind blowing in from the north a harsh and stinging cold The solstice has lost its once grand appearance Long past its due, the season has now grown old Bidding the Equinox to come without interference Strongest are the many blessings now spoken from its mouth Hymns sung aloft now rain down its affluence Spring's warm soft breezes arrive from the south Giving praise to the passing season at its confluence The seasons have never forgotten their appointed course Each pushes past all unforeseen resistance We endure th...
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After the Bomb M TERESA CLAYTON·SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 2016 The city looked like a trash heap for as far as the eye could see. Buildings no longer stood tall and proud, announcing the names of businesses and what had once been representative of the many people who gave the better part of their lives to the success of those companies. No windows to reflect the time of day as the sun made its way from east to west and no doors to welcome customers and clients when they came to call. Bones. Just bones of city life. There were no cries for help, no screams of terror, not a sound came from this landscape. Where were the birds, the squirrels in the park in the center of this district and, as I stood there taking it all in, what district is this? There was no delineation between townships, there was no way to tell one neighborhood from the others. Bodies lie among the heap of stones, but were burned beyond recognition. I couldn't tell a child from an adult, a black man...
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