seven: terrible beasts

Terrible beasts, they say,
too busy struggling,
too busy fighting,
didn’t see the sky was lighting up around them.
Didn’t hear the end was calling.
Didn’t hear their angels
say the sky was falling.

Terrible beasts, they say.
Giant, stomping, ignorant,
growing taller than the trees that shaded them,
and forgetting what it was
to live in humble shadow.

They had small brains,
it gave them courage.
They had small hearts,
it gave them dare.
And some of them,
bless their terrible boots,
even forgot what the world was
before God put them there.

And what about you?
Do you catch yourself when you trip in one of their footprints?
Do you touch the roots of the trees that pulled their necks up
and stretched them into long terrible things?

Do you look back when you’re happy?
Do you look up when your angel sings?

Would you even notice
if the sky stopped being blue?
Would you even notice
if God was coming for you?


From the same workshop as yesterday’s, this is day 7 of poems that I didn’t really ever get figured out. But will. One day.