don’t tell  
anyone
this letter to the world, came  
from me  
I don’t want the other seven billion  
stone walkers to know  
I am mad
about being born  
though it seems as good
a reason as any,
to be mad
    
I don’t want them to hear my screams  
echoing off the walls of their caves    

I don’t want them to see the blood  
dripping from the Calvary Cross  
from the nails they helped forge  

I don’t want them to see the bloated bodies
in the trenches they helped to dig

I don’t want them to smell the scorched flesh
from the flash of Fat Man  
or  witness the mangled limbs of the children
of the drone drops

for who would want word
of these sights and sounds
with their morning coffee  
who would want such
coughing colluding calamitous colors
to collide with their vision  
of hammocks on sleepy summer lawns
or silent sifting snow on Christmas Eve  

don’t tell any one of them  
this is my letter to the world  
for I would not want them
to stone me for my sins  

or for the good news  
I had to report