The burden lifted long ago
the childish wondering how and why so much suffering
because faith belief God’s love etc.
Long ago (the piles of bodies
clambering for the last pocket of rank air
the faces smiling
as they dragged mothers and their children through horrors)
long ago (and tomorrow too
despite the candles and beatitudes
and the smug well, just believe and be saved)
long ago I opened eyes and saw the truth
unshakeable as mother-love.
Stars and meadows roll
and birds bring fledglings to flight
kits and cubs from blind to crafty world-wise
and we are what we are
the hand that holds the knife the gun the whip the pen is sovereign.
No hiding in the celestial light
or praying for celestial rain to cleanse
this world is
Bring your eyes from the clouds and that ever-receding pie
and count the dead and dying.
What matters is.
is this bird