silence
all except for the soft hiss of snowflakes
rushing into my jacket sleeves
as if they expect to slide right through
and out the other side.
silence
so heavy i'm brought to my knees,
resisting the tempting, perfect snow
so thick that if i sink in, i may never come back up for air.
silence
that seems to echo
through the carpet of snow so deep,
because it's silent
and the whole world is asleep,
at least until the silence breaks.
looking up at the sky,
i can understand
why ancient people thought
the earth was flat
and the sky was a dome
our own personal snow globe
only,
we're trapped in it.
now we know
When the rivers turn to blood,
we will know
that our violence,
our unending savagery, our cruelty,
things we pass off as normal,
has gone too far.
When the rivers turn to blood,
we will know.
little lions
poking up through the sidewalk cracks
little lions
rambling along the sides of hills
little lions
puffy yellow stars shining like the sun
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