"paxon" poems
The crackle of light separates into
Sparks that drape over me.
An anticipated BOOM jolts me
into a state of terror and Awe.
I see this beauty and recall
Warriors,
Ancestors,
And a 7-year-old boy who lost everything to this majestic assassin.
The explosives now screech out a familiar name
Paxon,
Paxon,
Paxon.
Beauty massacres the young
I am filed with joy and sadness
On this Memorial Day.
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 11:59 AM UTC