The Dark Side Of Devotion

by Victor David Sandiego

We are a peaceful garden people
under an eggshell moon – ancestral sins
mostly scraped from our skin.

Our terrible fathers
buried in shadow – their crimes
covered in salt.

We do not fault
they carved their pride with iron
bars into stone.

A child in the sand of the garden waits
for a rose drop of dew
to free his sad lips from an innocent bondage.

Recall: towers of our history
still stand
in an unclean corner of our land. 

But these relics of our devotion
must someday yield to rubble
and we’ll have a dance

of blood red bursts – of spangled verse and song
when judgment drops the final grave
over our ravings.

This piece first appeared in Off The Coast, Summer 2013.

Comments

By Don on Sep 25, 2019 05:11 (UTC)

pretty dark side ok love of blood red bursts – of spangled verse and song