Your eyes
hold no questions
anymore.
They used to be
endless wells
of curiosity
and petulance.
I could never satisfy
your hunger for understanding,
it was as if
you were birthed
to know the world.
You travelled in its pages,
haunted the long halls
of new museums
and old book stores.
Never missed an opportunity
to beg a question
of some Old Timer
and pay for their coffee.
These days
it’s as if
all that fluid courage
that spurred you on
your quest to illuminate
your ignorance,
has hardened
into a wall
from which you pitch
your derision.
When did you decide
that the world
was no longer worthy
of investigation,
but instead
only a target
for the fusillade of your judgement?
At what point
did you decide
that you knew enough
to put all mankind
on the balances
and mete your share?
Your eyes,
now hard
and indignant.
I wish I were the Sun,
that I could warm you
and melt your heart,
and get you to remove
that coat of armor
that you now hide in.
Instead,
you think I am
the cold East Wind,
coming in to freeze you out
and I can’t seem
to debase you
of that notion.
Hear you are,
approaching winter,
and you discontent
only grows
as you become more miserable.
Surrounded by surrogates,
who feed you a thin gruel
of hatred and distrust.
You,
who walked amongst
the giants of history,
have turned them down,
only to live
amongst the rubble
you leave in your wake.
Of all the things you might have learned
out there in the world,
it seems,
you never learned
humility,
but you will.
HG – 2021
