In a camera’s view
I am the tortoise
When hidden I am the hare
With whistles, kisses, dangerous fixes
I can be the crushed worm
I feel the hierarchy changes
The tornado rips these castles to rubble
And you dream of the vicious
And you dream of the gentle shelters
To keep you warm when the wolf shakes
Eventually, the Winter will slip through
The cracks
And eternally
We feel the peasant’s meal
The bears begin knocking and
We hide like the scared child
In the storms of war
The bullets, the bombs
Parades of hell
A demon
Tight and abusive
Drinks the rain
And leaves us thirsty
With endless clouds
Still bleeding
Even the devil can be chivalrous
When reflecting from the bottom of a wineglass
Even God can be frightening
When tasting of the bread
And the Holy Bible as a straitjacket
To whisper you back to sanity
These wars were made for men
Certainly not made for love
The damages are painting a death,
For the wash
The Washing away
As the floods finally come
Wipe away our hoax in these torrents
Rebuild our trenches
We can desire living again
When the wolf leaves
The sheep can play
Find me on twitter @davidLONan1 @feversof
feature photo of wolf by Jeroen Bosch on Unsplash.com
(artwork by Geoffrey Wren for Avalanches in Poetry)
