Anti-aircraft lights keep our feet on the ground, ambition drowned in the puddles.
Our wings are clipped, soldiers kicking down the doors of angels.
Star spangled sympathies bullet-ridden with sickened consistency, eclipsing whatever patriotism they had us envisioning.
Ribbons of green where crossfire claimed innocence using little more than drizzled rain, so many children’s names the syllables run together on stone monuments where we promised them no more,
no, never again.
But here we are,
letting violent men define them, and by extension, us by the blood we carry
(so many bodies we bury).
I have tried to be sparing, have tried to be patient, until the chemical agents of prosperity were triggered for all.
But these wars get bigger (yet they never start small) and there just aren’t enough walls to block every killer out.
Most of them are in here with us, claiming we inhabit the safest house.