A Grass Tragedy
A child asks, “What is the grass?”
Blades of emerald soldiers staking claim,
Of a tabletop land filled with brown dirt,
And the insects beating, miniature hearts.
Crunching follows the toes on their journey.
A giant in the land of crawling bugs,
Soldiers climb through ten gaps in the toes,
Fear taking hold of their mortal being.
Feet embrace both fear and stability,
Keeping the frightened soldiers established,
At the face of size ten adversity,
That bright fluorescent swoosh their only light.
On this dreadful evening of friend and foe,
Warriors must contest adversaries,
Looking dread in its wicked façade,
A reflection of that, which lies within,
Both Goliath and David demand help,
Seeing their ability for evil.
Bowed, they hold their position in gravel,
The thumps subsiding, becoming distant,
With time they unravel, first at the base,
Then the torso, and finally the head.
Even shredded, their band will never die,
Brothers stay together in death’s body,
Forever remembered as stoic men,
By their forest staffs in the solid ground.
Divots stand as memorials to them,
The giant, still at large, travels the land,
Death’s body is all consuming today,
Follow the stars of brighter tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment